SHAKESPEAEE 


AS   A 


PHTSICIAK 


COMPRISLNG  EVERY  WORD   WHICH  IN   ANY  WAY  RELATES  TO  MEDICINE, 

SURGERY  OR  OBSTETRICS,  FOUND  IN  THE  COMPLETE   WORKS  OF 

THAT  WRITER,   WITH  CRITICISMS  AND  COaiPARISON 

OF    THE    SAME    WITH    THE    MEDICAL 

THOUGHTS    OF    TO-DAY. 


J.  PORTMAN  OHESNEY,  M.D., 

Ex-Secretary  Medical  Society  of  the  State  of  Missouri;  Corresponding  Member  of  the 

Gynaecological  Society  of  Boston ;  Prof,  of  Gynaecology  in  the  Northwestern 

Medical  College,  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  etc.,  etc. 


"Sir: — I  hear  you  are  a  schollar — I  will  be  brief  with  you — and  you 
have  been  a  man  long  known  to  me,  though  I  had  never  so  good  means,  as  I 
desire,  to  make  myself  acquainted  with  you.  I  shall  discover  a  thing  to 
you  wherein  I  must  vei'y  much  lay  open  mine  own  imperfection;  but,  good 
sir,  as  you  have  an  eye  upon  my  follies,  as  you  hear  them  unfolded,  turn 
another  into  the  register  of  your  own,  that  I  may  pass  with  a  reproof  the 
easier,  sith  yourself  know,  how  easy  it  is  to  be  such  an  offender." 


J.  H.  CHAMBERS  &  CO.,  Publisliers, 

CHICAGO,   ILL.,  ST.   LOUIS,   MO.,  ATLANTA,   GA. 

1884. 


Entei-ed  According  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1883,  by 

JAMES  H.  CHAMBERS  &  CO., 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


TO 

WILLIAIM  F.  SCOTT,  M.  D., 

AND 

FRANCIS  M.   JASPER,   M.  D., 

OF  KENTUCKY, 

WHO,    IN   THE   LONG   AGO, 

BY    THEIR    KINDLY    WORDS    AND    HELPING    HAND, 

CHEERED     MY     YOUTHFUL     PROFESSIONAL     ASPIRATIONS, 

THIS  VOLUJIE  IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED, 

BY 

THEIR    FRIEND, 

THE   AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I. 

Obstetrics,  -  -  -  -  -  17 

Blue-eyed  hag — Go  to  "  Texas  " — The  "  fly  young  man  " — Dr.  liosenweig 
and  Madam  McCarthy — Poor  Alice  Bowlsby  and  Miss  Jennie  Cramer — The  ' 
horsewhip  and  "navy" — The  poor  duke's  constable — Longing  for  stew'd 
prunes — Shakespeare's  sagacity — The  "craving"  appetite  in  females — The 
blood  is  the  life — Anorexia  and  delirium — "Good  cheer"  for  pregnant 
women — Pompey  Bum  and  the  "social  evil" — "Quick"  at  the  second 
month — Puck  and  his  girdle — Exploring  the  moon — Normal  ovariotomj' — 
The  nubile  age — Mental  emotions  and  abortion — Three  classes  of  causa- 
tion— The  fruit  withers — Neoplasms — Endometritis — Syphilis  and  the  no- 
bility—Juliet and  lady  Capulet — Lord  Campbell — Forensic  medicine— Child- 
bed privilege — The  "medicine  man"  and  his  fee — Twenty  money-bags — 
King  John  and  his  erroneous  decision — Premature  deliveries  and  the  law — 
Two  cases  from  Taylor — Groaned  for  him — The  heyday  of  existence  and 
the  evening  of  age — "Hal"  and  Herbert  Spencer — Alcohol  and  venery — 
Fish  diet  and  sex — Abortion ;  never  in  the  prostitute — The  doctor's  coat — 
Maid  of  Orleans — Commission  on  pregnancy — Difficulties  in  diagnosing 
pregnancy— Jorisenne's  method — Apprehensions  in  the  pregnant  state — 
The  "play"  as  a  means  of  education — Richard  the  Third  at  his  birth — 
Shakespeare's  intuition — Teeth  generated  in  error— Teretology ;  its  va- 
rieties—Hunchbacks and  tbeir  wit — Richard's  villainy — The  "grunting" 
— The  accouchement  of  Anne  Boleyn — Graphic  description — Tamora,  queen 
of  the  Goths — "  He  is  your  brother  by  the  surer  side  " — Early  marriages 
and  premature  decay — Excuses  in  America — Weaning  of  Juliet — Stand  on 
the  floor  and  suck — Inanition  and  little  gilded  tombs — "Twin  sisters" — 
Chlorosis — Scoundrels  made  from  the  mothers'  milk — The  mother  who 
nurses  her  own  offspring — Caesarian  section  should  not  be  "untimely" — 
How  fresh  she  looks. 

9 


10  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

CHAPTER  II. 

Psychology,  -  -  -  -  70 

Definition — Shakespeare's  profound  knowledge  of  the  subject — Bucknill's 
eulogium — "It  is  all  the  best"" — Shakespeare's  special  study  of  insanity  an 
absurdity — His  intuition — Scene  before  an  Abbey — Jealousy  versus  sanitj' — A 
foul  conspiracy — A  psychological  charlatan — Sleeplessness  but  a  symptom — 
Shakespeare  draws  on  his  own  domestic  experience — Now  not  a  joke,  but  a 
dark  reality — Thrown  into  a  "dankish"  vault — The  cell  of  Foscari — Public 
institutions  need  surveillance — Preliminary  abuses — Probate  courts  and 
examinations  in  lunacy  —  Monkey  and  medical  expert — A  ten-dollar  fee — 
Charles  Reade — "Why  hast  thou  put  hira  in  such  a  dream?"— No  darkness 
but  ignorance — Make  the  trial  of  it  in  any  constant  question— Erroneous 
assumption — Bucknill  on  memory — What  at  any  time  have  you  heard  her 
say? — "Out  damned  spot"— Here's  the  smell  of  blood  still — Will  she  go  now 
to  bed? — Cure  her  of  that — "Make  thick  my  blood  stop  up  the  access  and 
passage  to  remorse" — Cases  from  De  Boismont — "He  had  a  large  knife  in  his 
hand  and  went  straight  to  my  bed" — He  returned  as  he  came — "I  had  so  strange 
a  dream" — His  services  were  thereafter  dispensed  with — Somnambulism  and 
insanity — The  pulse  as  indicative  of  insanity — Did  you  nothing  hear? — Hallu- 
cinations— The  ghost — The  spectre  cat — The  doctor's  fright — Look!  Amaze- 
ment on  thy  mother  sits — Lesions  of  structure  necessary  to  lesions  of  func- 
tion— I'm  a'gwine  to  die!— One  iinale  awaits  the  man  and  all  his  attributes — 
Love  and  sleeplessness — Age — "No  man  bears  sorrow  better" — The  final 
cataclysm — King  Lear  not  insane — A  dog's  obeyed  in  office — The  "Bed- 
lam beggar" — "How  does  the  king?" — "You  are  a  spirit,  I  know" — Lord 
Shaftesbury's  opinion — The  Emotions — Their  close  relationship  to  actual 
mental  diseases— Jealousy — With  "pin  and  web" — Othello,  the  Moor — "O! 
now  farewell  the  tranquil  mind" — Alas  the  day !  I  never  gave  him  cause— The 
ills  we  do  their  ill  instruct  as  to — Ninety  children  the  utmost  limit — The  rela- 
tive procreative  capacity  of  the  sexes — Monogamistic  relations — Abortion 
and  polygamy — Love — All  lovers  swear  more  performance  than  they  are  able — 
Love-marks — "Did  you  ever  cure  any  so?" — The  pale  complexion  of  true  love 
— "He  took  me  by  the  wrist  and  held  me  hard" — Mine  eyes  were  not  at  fault, 
for  she  was  beautiful — Lust — Not  from  Shakespeare — One  man  in  every  five — 
Love  powders— My  daughter!  0  my  daughter! — Lucretius,  the  poet — A  veri- 
table letter — Venereal  excitement  not  love — Let  not  the  creaking  of  shoes — 
The  will  and  conception — "Could  I  find  out  the  woman's  part  in  me" — Paiu- 
ful  copulation  (Dyspareunia)— Anger — Envy. 

chaptp:r  III. 

Neurology,  -  -  -  -  -121 

Epilepsy— Falling  Sickness — "Rub  him  about  the  temples  "—Playing 
"wolf  "—The  prototype  of  Othello—"  What,  did  Caesar  swoon?" — The  epi- 
leptic zone— The  trade-mark  and    "plug"    hat — Mistaken   diagnosis — This 


CONTENTS.  11 

apoplexy  will  certain  be  his  end — Gad's  Hill  and  Sir  John — I  talk  not  of 
his  majesty— It  is  a  kind  of  deafness — Croups — Drowning  as  a  consequence 
of  popular  delusion — The  mad-stone  and  its  votaries — Not  known  by  medi- 
cal men— The  treatment  as  good  as  any — "John  Jones,  of  Albany  "—  Odon- 
tology— Set  up  the  bloody  flag  against  all  patience — The  nurse's  head-ache — 
"Let  me  but  bind  it  hard  " — Varieties  of  the  malady — Sciatica — Syphilis  as 
a  complication — Gout — Plays  the  rogue  with  my  great  toe — Anorexia — Pa- 
ralysis— "  My  tirm  nerves  shall  never  tremble." 

CHAPTER    IV. 

PlIAKMACOLOGIA,  .  -  -  -  132 

Sleepy  Drinks — Foster  nurse  of  Nature — A  liberal  offer — A  doctor's  knowl- 
edge appreciated — What? — The  perfumed  dandy — Unbearable  nonsense — 
What's  in't? — Mandragora — Drowsy  syrups — Superstition — Toxicology — The 
trusty  pistol — Fashions  of  suicide — Difficulty  of  purchase — Poisoned  by  a 
monk — This  tyrant  fever — Swinstead  abbej' — Strange  fantasies — North  winds 
— A  compound — Monks  as  physicians — Cardinal  Beaufort  —  Liebreich  an- 
ticipated— Republished — Was  it  chloral? — Comparison  of  conditions— Care, 
fully  noted — Meagre  were  his  looks — What,  ho! — Famine  is  in  thy  cheek — 
Death's  pale  flag — Thus  with  a  kiss — A  nest  of  Death — A  slight  discrepancy — 
Oxalic  acid — Discovei^  repeats  itself — The  insane  root — Drugging  the  pos- 
set— "Hashish" — The  unction  of  a  mountebank — Rabies  canina—Curara — 
From  what  derived?— A  failure  apprehended — Trap  with  double  triggers — 
Fencing  match — An  unlooked  for  termination — A  jealous  sister — Kills  and 
pains  not — Immortal  longings — Easy  ways  to  die — Zest  to  a  tragedy — A  spe- 
cific— Alconcito — A  royal  student — Soliloquy— Most  likely  I  did — Moreton 
preceded. 

CHAPTER  V. 

Etiology,  _  .  .  -  -  156 

Prefatory — Wine  for  an  ague — Objects  of  commiseration — A  promise  re- 
deemed— Icy  burning — A  marshy  residence — Magna  charta — Allegorical — 
An  idea  of  antiquity— "Would  to  bed  " — "  Falstaff,  he  is  dead  " — Congestive 
chill — Gad's-hill — Prince  Henry  and  his  "pals"— This  man  has  become  a 
god — Is  Brutus  sick? — Acerbity — The  Appian  Way — Foes  to  life — Malaria 
as  a  demoralizing  agent — Cross  gartering — The  tourniquet  as  a  remedy — 
Same  as  a  cause  of  disease — Farewell  to  neuralgia — Brunonianism. 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Dermatology,  -  -  -  -  164 

The  beginning — Serpigo — A  voluminous  curse — Was  it  small-pox? — The 
cursed  hebenon  —  Acarus  scabiei  —  The  disease  in  Paris — Falstaff  as  a 
"  wen" — Kibes — Probably  vaccinated — A  string  of  rhymes — Good  fruit  only 


12  SHAKESrEAftE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

from  a  good  tree — Transmissibility  of  defects — Gynaecological  phenoineua— 
The  "convulsive  zone" — Spreading  it  on  "  thick" — Rouge  and  pearl  pow- 
ders— 'Tis  beauty  truly  blent — Commendable  caution — Danger  in  the  dark — 
A  fastidious  scoundrel — Supposition  strengthened — We  catch  of  you,  Doll — 
Baths  in  syphilis — Ricord  and  Bumstead — A  beautiful  picture — Durability  of 
a  tanner— A  curious  but  not  creditable  truth — A  needed  reform — Venesection 
in  the  right  iliac  fossa. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Organology,  -  -  -  -  -  174 

The  stomach^Power  of  mind  over  function — Voluntary  inanition — Its 
Pathology — What  a  physiologist! — Dietetic  ideas  of  a  hostess — An  apt  com- 
parison— The  irritability  of  hunger — A  plain  road — An  error  explained — The 
woodman  and  his  belt — Seat  of  the  affections — Gin-drinker's  liver — Cause 
for  effect — Smiling  at  grief — Lewdness  and  poverty — Illustrated — Sentiment 
reversed — The  badge  of  cowardice — The  truth  in  popular  ideas — Then  live, 
Macduff — Sleep  in  spite  of  thunder — Pulmonary  gangrene — Benedick,  the 
married  man — Thaw'd  out — A  pertinent  conclusion — A  blind  philosopher — 
How  are  you  'fraid! — Latent  senses — The  green  flap — Some  new  infection — 
An  enquiry — An  amusing  incident — "Hal's"  vocabulary — Renal  functions — 
Sympathetic  fibrillas — Carry  bis  water  to  the  wise  woman — What  says  the 
doctor  to  my  water? — A  sensible  doctor,  for  a  wonder — Changes  in  the  kid- 
ney—Nose painting — A  sure  sign — Taste  not — A  cheap  article — "  When  I  was 
about  thy  years,  Hal" — The  lean  and  hungry  Cassius — He  smiles  in  such  a 
sort— Drawing  the  fire  out — A  parody— An  exploded  barbarity — Mr.  Strili- 
ling,  the  druggist — The  blood  is  the  life — Blasting  a  good  resolve — Man  im- 
proves with  his  condition — A  plea  for  the  lancet — Palpitation — Good  air  as 
an  agent— Much  effuse  of  blood,  etc. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Chirurgebt,  .....  192 

Grows  stronger  for  the  breaking — Mistaken  principle— Patching  the  over- 
coat— Bad  practice — Syncope— Mistakes  in  prognosis — Spare  the  blood — 
Shakespeare  a  poor  surgeon — A  scar  covered  veteran — The  money  changer — 
The  surgeon's  fee — Professional  failing — Doctors  and  the  clergy — A  man 
with  a  soul — The  surgeon's  tools— Surgeon's  fort — Honors  to  whom  honor, 
etc. — Trichina  spiralis — Who  is  responsible?— Doctors  and  their  doings — 
Little  change — Cowardly  knave— Jester  for  an  hospital — The  least  merit — 
A  precedent  for  doctor  "she" — "Malignant  fistulse  " — Potent  remedy — 
Popular  ignorance — The  reformed  hod-carrier— Professional  honor — Another 
comparison — A  lame  impostor  and  his  lame  detection — Doctor's  untimely 
end — The  English  Nero — Dr.  Butts,  the  scoundrel — A  want  of  faith — Woful 
mistake — Danger  of  expectancy — In  Macbeth — An  absurd  credulity— God 
Almighty  as  a  visiting  physician — How  does  your  patient,  doctor? — Needs  a 
divine — No  mean  psychologist — Indiscreet — A  self- constituted  doctor. 


CONTENTS.  13 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Miscellaneous,  -  -  -  -  212 

A  vile  caricature — The  Huncliback — Now  is  the  winter  of  my  discontent — 
Listening  to  the  whispers  of  Vanity — I'll  be  at  charge  for  a  looking-glass — 
Troublous  dreams — Sleep  that  knits  up  the  raveled  sleeve — Our  life  is  two- 
fold— Sleep  hath  its  own  world — From  Byron — Neuralgia — No  guaranty  of 
truth — Kiot — Position  in  sea-sickness  —  Old  quarantine  regulations  —  The 
plague— From  the  cradle  to  the  grave — Characteristics  of  senility — Take  a 
man  of  honor,  Kate — He  brings  his  physic  after  his  patient's  death — An  awk- 
ward predicament— Tests  for  death— Life  a  failure — Ay!  but  to  die?  Grim 
Death ! 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE. 


King  Henry  VIII.  and  the  Midwife,             ...  49 

The  Midwife  to  Anne  Bullen,  on  receiving  her  fee,       -             -  50 

Aaron,  the  Moor,  and  the  Illegitimate  Child,           -             -  52 

An  Illustration  of  the  Benefits  of  Protracted  Lactation,           -  59 

Enquiry  in  Lunacy — (Medical  Experts  to  the  right),         -  76 

Lady  Macbeth  murders  the  sleeping  Duncan,                -             -  82 

The  Doctor  looks  for  the  skeleton  behind  him,         -             -  90 

The  Effects  of  gathering  the  May-apple  root,               -             -  136 

Romeo  and  the  Apothecary  of  Mantua,       ...  143 

Romeo  and  Juliet  in  the  "  tomb  of  the  Capulets,"         -             -  144 

Prince  "Hal"  manifests  his  friendship  for  Sir  John  Falstaff,  176 

The  Woodman,  and  his  arrangement  for  "cheap  boarding,"  179 

The  Clown  enlivening  the  inmates  of  an  Hospital,        -             -  198 

A  Female  Practitioner  presents  herself  before  the  King,  -  200 
The  famous  "Dr.  Sunrise  "  condescends  to  visit  the  good  people 

of  St.  Joseph,  .....  203 
A  Gentleman  who  practices  under  the  protection  of   a  License 

issued  by  the  highest  authority,     -             -             -             .  211 


14 


PKEFACE. 


The  thoughts  of  [Shakespeare  enter  more  or  less  into  the  pro- 
ductions of  almost  every  one  who  writes  in  the  English  language. 
His  works  abound  in  such  a  })rofuse  diversity  of  thought  and  expres- 
sion, that  they  are  laid  under  contribution  to  supply  the  gems  which 
sparkle  among  the  lowering  effusions  of  the  lawyer,  the  doctor,  and 
the  divine ;  they  contribute  the  ornamentation  for  the  title-pages  of 
the  wit,  the  poet  and  the  fictionist, — whilst  in  miscellaneous  writings 
of  every  conceivable  kind  and  sentiment  their  wisdom  is  pruned  or 
distorted  to  suit  the  "  mellowing  of  occasion." 

The  idea  even  of  making  an  entire  volume  based  upon  some  single 
line  of  thought  found  in  Shakespeare's  writings  is  not  new, — as  a 
work  embracing  "Shakespeare's  Legal  knowledge"  was  written  by 
Lord  Campbell,  and  pul)lished  in  England  some  years  ago  ;  and  it  is 
said,  that  even  now,  there  are  as  many  as  twenty  books  in  some  way 
connected  with  the  great  dramatist,  issued  yearly  from  the  British 
press.  If  in  the  vastness  of  this  literature  there  has  not  at  some 
time  in  the  past  appeared  a  work  embodying  "Shakespeare's 
Medical  knowledge,"  it  is  a  little  strange, — though  of  the  existence 
of  such  a  work  the  present  writer  has  no  knowledge. 

The  conception  of  presenting  Shakespeare's  medical  knowledge  in 
a  complete  and  connected  form  is,  therefore,  probably  original  as 
connected  with  the  present  work.  We  are  not  unmindful,  however, 
that  his  thoughts  on  medicine  have  from  time  to  time  appeared  in  a 
fragmentary  form, — the  latest  of  which  is  a  paper  a  few  3'ears  ago 
published  in  this  country,  embracing  the  immortal  poet's  ideas  of 
Insanity ;  of  the  scope  and  merit  of  the  paper  we  can,  however,  say 
nothing,  as  it  has  never  fallen  into  our  hands. 

15 


16  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

In  presenting,  as  we  have  endeavored  to  do,  truly  and  faithfully, 
every  line  and  precept  in  Shakespeare's  complete  works  which  in 
the  remotest  sense  bears  upon  the  science  and  practice  of  medicine, 
we  may  say  that  easy  as  the  task  ma}^  seem  to  one  who  has  not 
essayed  it, — yet  the  satisfactory  accomplishment  of  the  work  has 
been  attended  with  no  small  amount  of  difficulty  and  labor ;  and  in 
extenuation  of  any  faults  which  may  be  found  in  its  pages,  we  will 
say  to  the  ' '  critics  ' '  that  if  in  them  the  ' '  antique  and  well-noted  face 
of  plain  old  form  is  much  disfigured — and,  like  a  shifting  wind  into 
a  sail,  it  makes  the  course  of  thought  to  fetch  about, — startles  con- 
sideration,— makes  sound  opinion  sick,  and  truth  suspected,  for  put- 
ting on  so  new  a  fashioned  garb," — why,  then,  we  shall  hail  with 
dehght  a  better  work  upon  the  same  subject  from  any  one  of  them. 

THE  AUTHOR. 
St.  Joseph,  Mo., 

March  1st,  1884. 

Note. — Since  placing  tlie  present  work  in  the  hands  of  the  publishers,  I 
have  been  favored  by  Dr.  George  C.  Catlett,  Superintendent  of  the  Mis- 
souri State  Lunatic  Asylum,  with  a  copy  of  an  English  work,  entitled  "The 
Mad  Folk  of  Shakespeare,"  by  Dr.  Jno.  Charles  Bucknill,  and  from  its  pages 
I  have  liberally  drawn  in  amending  my  chapter  on  Insanity. — J.  P.  C. 


CHAPTER    I. 


OBSTETRICS. 


Blue-eyed  liiig — Go  to  "Texas" — The  *' fly  younj?  man" — Dr.  Rosenweig 
and  Madam  McCarthy — Poor  Alice  Bowlsby  and  Miss  Jennie  Cramer — The 
horsewhip  and  "navy" — The  poor  duke's  constable — Longing  for  stew'd 
prunes — Shakespeare's  sagacity — The  "craving"  appetite  in  females — The 
blood  is  the  life — Anorexia  and  delirium — "Good  clieer"  for  pregnant 
women — Pompej'  Bum  and  the  "social  evil" — "Quick"  at  the  second 
month — Puck  and  his  girdle — Exploring  the  moon — Normal  ovariotomy — 
The  nubile  age — Mental  emotions  and  abortion — Three  classes  of  causa 
tion — The  fruit  withers — Neoplasms — Endometritis — Syphilis  and  the  no" 
bility — Juliet  and  lady  Capulet — Lord  Campbell — Forensic  medicine— Cliild- 
bed  privilege — The  "medicine  man"  and  his  fee — Twenty  money-bags — 
King  John  and  his  erroneous  decision — Premature  deliveries  and  the  law — 
Two  cases  from  Taylor — Groaned  for  him — The  heyday  of  existence  and 
the  evening  of  age — "Hal"  and  Herbert  Spencer — Alcohol  and  venery — 
Fish  diet  and  sex — Abortion ;  never  in  the  prostitute — The  doctor's  coat — 
Maid  of  Orleans — Commission  on  pregnancy — Difficulties  in  diagnosing 
pregnancy — Joriseune's  method — Apprehensions  in  the  pregnant  state — 
The  "play"  as  a  means  of  education — Richard  the  Third  at  his  birth — 
Shakespeare's  intuition — Teeth  generated  in  error— Teretology;  its  va- 
rieties— Hunchbacks  and  their  wit — Richard's  villainy,— The  "grunting" 
— The  accouchement  of  Anne  Boleyn — Graphic  description — Tamora,  queen 
of  the  Goths — "He  is  your  brother  by  the  surer  side" — Early  marriages 
and  premature  decay — Excuses  in  America — Weaning  of  Juliet — Stand  on 
the  floor  and  suck — Inanition  and  little  gilded  tombs — "Twin  sisters" — 
Chlorosis — Scoundrels  made  from  the  mothers'  milk — The  mother  who 
nurses  her  own  offspring — Ctesai-ian  section  should  not  be  "untimely" — 
How  fresh  she  looks. 

Under  this  caption  will  be  considered  every  thing  connected  with 
parturition  and  the  science  of  gynaecology.  The  material,  though 
sufficiently  voluminous  to  constitute  a  chapter  of  value,  is  yet  so 
difficult  of  arrangement  into  readable  order,  that  the  task  I  take 
upon  myself  in  essaying  its  accomplishment  is  of  some  solicitude. 

"The  Tempest,"  A.  i.,  S.  ii.,  furnishes  us  with  the  first  idea  in 
this  direction. 


18  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

"  This  blue-eyed  hag  was  hither  brought  with  child,"  has  reference 
to  the  former  mistress  of  Caliban,  but  is  not  of  sufficient  moment 
for  comment. 

"  'Tis  my  familiar  sin  with  maids  to  seem  the  lapwing,  and  to 
jest,  tongue  far  from  heart,  play  with  all  virgins  so  ;  your  brother 
and  his  lover  have  embrac'd  :  as  those  that  feed  grow  full ;  as  blos- 
soming time,  that  from  the  seeding  the  bare  fallow  brings  to  teeming 
foison,  even  so  her  plenteous  womb  expresseth  his  full  tilth  and 
husbandry. 

Isabella.     Some  one  with  child  by  him? — My  cousin  Juliet? 

Lucio.     Is  she  your  cousin? 

Isabella.  Adoptedly  ;  as  schoolmaids  change  their  names  by  vain 
though  apt  affection. 

Lucio.     She  it  is. 

Isabella.     O,  let  him  marry  her." 

The  above  conversation  might  have  been  overheard  between  a 
young  lady  and  young  gentleman,  parties  to  the  interesting  play 
of  "Measure  for  Measure,"  A.  i.,  S.  v.,  had  the  ear  been  applied  to 
the  key-hole ;  and  though  somewhat  pointed  to  be  had  between  a 
young  couple — or  at  least  would  be  now  so  considered — it  was  no 
doubt  admissible  at  the  date  in  which  it  purports  to  have  been  used. 

Isabella  but  echoes  the  sentiment  of  a  woman's  heart.  She  would 
have  her  brother  marry  the  girl  he  had  wronged,  and  thus  save  her 
from  the  odium  incident  to  the  results  of  their  improper  intimacy. 
Not  so  the  sentiment  of  masculine  humanity.  Tliink  of  it  as  he 
may,  the  man's  acts  are  commonly  to  get  away  from  the  scenes  of  his 
villainies.  Goto  "Texas,"  get  away,  go  any  where,  but  leave  the 
place  of  perfidy,  leave  his  victim  to  the  burden  of  both  her  own 
sorrows  and  his  crimes  is  the  usual  mode.  Some  there  are  however 
essay  another  means  of  egress  from  the  net  closing  around  them — 
a  means  apparently  less  hazardous  to  them,  but  doubly  so  to  the 
victim.  Instead  of  either  "marrying  her"  or  escaping  to  Aus- 
tralia, the  "fly  young  man"  consults  Dr.  Rosenweig  or  Madam 
McCarthy,  with  one  or  the  other  of  whom  he  perfects  arrangements 
for  boarding  his  "cousin"  for  a  week  or  two.  "My  cousin,  you 
know,  has  '  taken  cold,'  you  know,  and  has  dropsy."  The  result 
of  this  stay  of  a  few  days  with  the  eminent  doctor,  coupled  with 
the  "treatments"  he  gives  her  to  "bring  her  round  again,"  is 
but  too  forcibly  pictured  in  the  fate  of  poor  Alice  Bowlsby,  whose 


OBSTETRICS.  19 

body,  packed  in  a  trunk,  and  shipped  about  the  country  for  several 
days,  so  horrified  New  England  a  'few  years  ago.  Or  then  the 
victim's  fate  is  sealed,  and  she  hides  her  deep  despair  in  the  murky 
waters  of  a  neighboring  pond,  the  swift  current  of  the  river,  the 
quiet  depths  of  a  lake — or,  like  the  more  recent  case  of  Jennie 
Cramer,  expiates,  voluntarily,  the  unendurable  bitterness  of  her 
folly  by  hiding  her  body  and  shame  together  in  the  dark  waters 
of  the  sea.  Those  antiquated  notions  of  "let  him  marry  her " 
maj^  find  an  occasional  response  in  the  bosom  of  some  of  our 
country  swains,  actuated  to  the  performance  of  the  noble  and  self- 
sacrificing  duty  by  the  horsewhip  of  an  indignant  father,  or  the 
point  of  a  "  navy  "  in  the  hands  of  a  big  brother  ;  but  in  the  city, 
among  the  refined  and  intelligent,  where  Madam  M.  and  Dr.  R. 
may  be  found  almost  in  every  block — never. 

In  continuation  of  this  same  case,  wherein  the  party  accused  of 
fornication  was  by  the  edict  of  the  ruler  of  the  country  to  suffer 
death,  we  have  these  further  details: 

Escalus,     "Well,  heaven  forgive  us  all! 

Some  rise  by  sin,  and  some  by  virtue  fall. 

Elboiv.  Come,  bring  them  away.  If  these  be  good  people  in  a 
common-weal,  that  do  nothing  but  use  their  abuses  in  common 
houses,  I  know  the  law  ;  bring  them  away. 

Angela.  \_The  duke's  deputy^  trho  is  executing  the  Imv  ivith  the 
utmost  rigor  on  others,  although  violating  it  himself  ivith  the  most 
flagrant  hand.^  How  now,  sir?  what's  your  name?  and  what's  the 
matter  ? 

Elbotv.  If  it  please  your  honor,  I  am  the  poor  duke's  constable, 
and  my  name  is  Elbow:  I  do  not  lean  upon  Justice,  sir;  and  do 
bring  in  here  before  your  good  honor  two  notorious  benefactors. 

Angela.  Benefactors!  Well,  what  benefactors  are  they!  are  they 
not  malefactors  ? 

Elboiv.  If  it  please  your  honor,  I  know  not  well  what  they  are  ; 
but  precious  villains  they  are,  that  I  am  sure  of,  and  void  of  all 
profanation  in  the  world  that  good  Christians  ought  to  have. 

Escalus.     This  comes  off  well ;  here's  a  wise  oflficer. 

Angelo.  Go  to  :  what  quality  are  they  of?  Elbow  is  your  name  : 
why  dost  thou  not  speak.  Elbow? 

Clown.     He  cannot,  sir;  he's  out  at  elbows. 

Angelo.     What  are  you,  sir? 

Elbow.     He,  sir?  a  tapster,  sir;  a  parcel-bawd;  one  that  serves 


20  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

a  bad  woman,  whose  house,  sir,  was,  as  they  say,  hot-house,  which 
I  think,  is  a  very  ill  house  too. 
Escalus.     How  know  you  that? 

Elboiu.  My  wife,  sir,  whom  I  detest,  before  heaven  and  your 
honor. 

Escalus.     How!  thy  wife? 

Elhoio.     Ay,  sir ;  who,  I  thank  heaven,  is  an  honest  woman. 
Escalus.     Dost  thou  detest  her  therefor  ? 

Elbow.  I  say,  sir,  I  will  detest  myself  also,  as  well  as  she,  that 
this  house,  if  it  be  not  a  bawd's  house,  it  is  pity  of  her  life,  for  it 
is  a  naughty  house. 

Escalus.     How  dost  thou  know  that,  constable? 
Elbow.     Marry,  sir,   by  my  wife ;  who,  if  she  had  been  a  woman 
cardinally  inclined,  might  have  been  accused  in  fornication,  adul- 
tery, and  all  uncleanliness  there. 
Escalus.     By  the  woman's  means? 

Elboio.  Ay,  sir,  by  Mrs.  Overdone's  means;  but  as  she  spit  in 
his  face,  so  she  defied  him. 

Clown.     Sir,  if  it  please  your  honor,  this  is  not  so. 
Elbotv.     Prove  it  before  these  varlets  here,  thou  honorable  man  ; 
prove  it. 

Escalus.     [^To  Angela.^     Do  you  hear  how  he  misplaces? 
Cloivn.     Sir,  she  came  in  great  with  child,   and  longing  (saving 
your  honor's  reverence)  for  stew'd  prunes:    sir,  we  had  but  two  in 
the  house,  which  at  that  distant  time  stood,  as  it  were,  in  a  fruit 
dish,   a  dish  of   some  three    pence  :    your  honor  have  seen  such 
dishes :  they  are  not  china  dishes,  but  very  good  dishes. 
Escalus.     Go  to,  go  to  ;  no  matter  for  the  dish,  sir. 
Cloivn.     No,  indeed,  sir ;  not  of  a  pin ;  you  are  therefore  in  the 
right ;  but  to  the  point.     As  I  say,  this  Mistress  Elbow,  being,  as  I 
said,  with  child,  and  being  great  belly'd,  and,  longing  as  I  said,  for 
prunes,    and   having  but  two  in  the  dish,  as  I  said.  Master  Froth 
here,  this  very  man,  having  eaten  the  rest,  as  I  said,  and,  as  I  say, 
paying  for  them  very  honestly  ; — for,  as  you  know.  Master  Froth,  I 
could  not  give  you  three  pence  again. 
Froth.     No,  indeed. 

Cloivn.     Very   vyell ;    you   being   then,    if    you   be   remember'd, 
cracking  the  stones  of  the  foresaid  prunes. 
Froth.     And  so  I  did  indeed. 
Clown.     Why,  very  well ;  I  telling  you  then,  if  you  be  remem- 


OBSTETKICS.  21 

ber'd,  that  such  a  one,  and  such  a  one,  were  past  cure  of  the  thing 
you  wot  of,  unless  they  kept  very  good  diet,  as  I  told  you." 

The  court  scene  above  represented  is  a  pretty  fair  representation 
of  what  may  be  heard  most  any  day  in  our  inferior  tribunals, — the 
medical  matter  being  better  however  in  the  above  instance  than  the 
legal.  The  idea  conveyed  in  the  last  paragraph,  as  to  the  necessity 
of  good  diet  in  the  treatment  of  the  "diseases  you  wot  of,"  was 
ignored  by  the  medical  world  until  a  period  so  recent  as  to  come 
within  the  memory  of  our  junior  practitioners  ;  and  that  its  pro- 
priety, nay,  necessity^  should  have  forced  its  self  upon  the  notice  of 
a  non-medical  man  three  centuries  and  a  half  ago,  when  no  medical 
mind  had  grasped  the  idea,  is  only  one  among  the  thousands  of  evi- 
dences we  have  of  Shakespeare's  unequaled  sagacity.  The  craving 
appetite  of  pregnant  women  is  in  my  mind  a  real  demand  made  by 
nature  for  material  with  which  to  repair  some  specific  waste  incident 
to  conception  ;  and  the  guardians  of  a  female  in  that  condition, 
who  pass  lightly  by  the  demands  of  their  charge,  are  certainly  dere- 
lict in  the  discharge  of  a  sacred  duty.  The  whole  period  of  gesta- 
tion is  one  of  severe  strain  upon  the  tissues  of  the  mother ;  every 
change  in  her  structures  during  the  nine  months  of  the  foetal 
existence  is  to  her  a  period  of  retrograde  metamorphosis,  and  this  is 
shown  by  nothing  better  than  the  qualities  of  her  blood — the  changes 
in  the  composition  of  which,  so  characteristic  of  the  pregnant  state — 
being  recognized  as  an  indubitable  evidence  in  this  direction. 
"The  blood  is  the  life,"  and  when  this  fails  to  perform  its  wonted 
functions,  the  whole  economy  follows  its  lead.  The  demands  upon 
the  system  of  the  mother  are  of  course  to  supply  the  materials  of  a 
new  being ;  and  though  we  have  no  data  at  hand  upon  which  to 
predicate  an  assertion  that  the  strange  and  unusual  articles  of  diet 
sometimes  so  longingly  sought  by  the  mother  do  contain  ingredients 
essential  to  the  elaboration  of  some  of  its  tissues — yet  it  may  be  so. 
For  some  women  to  become  pregnant  is  to  become  a  new  being — 
her  whole  aspect  is  changed.  This  metamorphosis  is  no  where  in 
her  economy  more  apparent  than  in  the  digestive  apparatus — the 
stomach  more  particularly  participating  in  these  perturbations  in  a 
degree  often  sufficient  to  endanger  the  life  of  the  woman.  Then 
the  mental  change,  so  noticeable  a  feature  in  some  pregnant  females, 
is  doubtless  due  partially,  if  not  essentiall};-,  to  the  disturbance  of 
the  nutritive  balance  in  the  system,  whereby  the  brain  and  nervous 
system  are  deprived  of  some  ingredient  which  is  essential  to  their 


22  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

healthy  functional  activity.  At  a  later  period  doubtless  may  be 
added,  as  a  factor  in  these  manifestations,  the  septic  influences 
engendered  by  a  retention  of  a  materies  morbi  in  the  system  of  the 
mother — the  products  of  the  waste  of  the  growing  ovum,  as  also 
of  her  own  tissues,  retained  in  her  blood. 

We  notice  analogous  symptoms  connected  with  many  wasting 
diseases,  as,  for  example,  in  typhoid  fever,  where  the  anorexia  and 
the  delirium  are  only  the  language  of  the  conditions  before  suggested. 
Supply,  then,  the  woman  with  the  "  stew'd  prunes,"  or  any  thing 
she  requests — her  system  demands  it.  The  champagne  found  to  be 
of  so  much  service  to  pregnant  females  by  Meigs  was  but  an  ex- 
ample of  how  much  "  good  cheer"  may  do  for  them. 

The  appetite  should  not  be  called  "morbid,"  and  passed  over 
carelessly;  but  our  "great  belly 'd  "  patients  should  be  well  fed, 
the  fear  of  "plethora"  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Plethora, 
ursemic  disorders,  etc.,  are  the  evidences  of  improper  elimination 
and  impoverished  organic  tissues,  rather  than  of  over  feeding  and 
undue  assimilation. 

This  same  Clown,  Pompey  Bum,  entertained  an  idea  that  may 
yet  command  the  notice  of  the  physicians,  clergy  and  law-makers 
of  this  country — namely,  that  to  prevent  some  from  living  by  the 
trade  of  bawds,  it  will  be  necessary  to  geld  and  spay  all  the  youths 
of  the  country ;  and  thus  would  the  social  evil  and  its  physical 
counterpart,  venereal  maladies,  vanish  together. 

In  "  Love's  Labor  Lost,"  A.  v.,  S.  ii.,  we  find: 

Costard.  "  The  party  is  gone  :  fellow  Hector,  she  is  gone  ;  she  is 
two  months  on  her  way. 

Armado.     AVhat  meanest  thou  ? 

Costard.  Faith,  unless  thou  play  the  honest  Trojan,  the  poor 
wench  is  cast  away ;  she  is  quick ;  the  child  brags  in  her  belly 
already." 

The  idea  of  a  woman  being  quick  at  the  end  of  the  second 
month  is  not  borne  out  by  the  facts ;  yet  it  is  probably  not  due  to 
a  lack  of  definite  knowledge  on  that  point  by  Shakespeare,  but  is 
made  so  to  place  it  in  keeping  with  the  general  spirit  of  exaggera- 
tion which  pervades  tlie  whole  plot  of  the  comedy. 

In  "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  we  find  reference  to  par- 
turient fatality  in  these  words:  "  But  she  being  mortal,  of  that  boy 
did  die;"  which  applied  to  the  labor  of  Titian's  companion,  but 
there  is  nothing  further  of  interest  can  be  deduced  from  it. 


OBSTETRICS.  23 

In  the  same  play,  and  though  somewhat  irrelevant  to  our  subject, 
I  may  mention  the  now  somewhat  notorious  boast  of  "Puck"  in 
regard  to  "  putting  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth  in  forty  minutes." 
Little  did  Shakespeare  dream  that  this  very  thing,  to  him  no  doubt 
only  a  thought  placed  there  to  illustrate  the  extremist  impossibility, 
should  be  an  accomplished  fact  while  yet  his  own  great  name  is 
fresh  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  a  majority  of  the  civilized  people 
of  the  earth.  Less  did  he  imagine  that  "  forty  minutes  "  should 
in  so  short  a  time  be  considered  an  absolute  waste  of  the  precious 
moments,  and  that  the  necessities  of  the  age  made  it  imperative  that 
it  be  only  forty  seconds ! 

The  speculations  of  the  maniac  who  should  now  declare  that  the 
time  will  be  when  we  shall  be  able  to  reach  and  explore  the  hidden 
mysteries  of  the  moon,  would  seem  to  us  as  plausible  as  the  pre- 
diction of  "Puck;"  now,  we  mortals  behold  his  seemingly  idle 
vagaries  an  accomplished  fact.  We  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth.  Shakespeare,  with  all  his  insight  into  the  possibilities  which 
reside  in  the  human  composition,  did  not  reach,  even  in  his  wildest 
dreams,  the  ideas  of  the  telephone,  phonograph,  etc.,  both  of  which 
have  been  perfected — nay,  conceived,  since  the  above  paragraph 
was  written.  Wonderful  as  they  are,  are  they  much  more  so  than 
the  ability  and  utility  found  in  connection  with  what  may  be  accom- 
plished with  the  pen.?  The  pen  and  printing  press  are  grandest 
after  all.  But  to  return  to  our  theme:  In  "The  Merchant  of 
Venice"  we  find  a  coarse  conversation  between  Lorenzo  and 
Lancelot  in  regard  to  the  pregnancy  of  a  certain  Moor,  which, 
however,  has  little  point,   and  need  not  be  mentioned. 

"  All's  well  that  ends  well,  "  act  last,  scene  last,  contains  the  fol- 
lowing: "But  for  this  lord,  who  hath  abus'd  me,  as  he  knows  him- 
self, though  yet  he  never  harm'd  me,  here  I  quit  him. 

He  knows  himself  my  bed  he  hath  defil'd, 
And  at  that  time  he  got  his  wife  with  child : 
Dead  though  she  be,  she  feels  her  young  one  kick ; 
So  there's  my  riddle,  one  that's  dead  is  '  quick.'  " 

The  lady  in  this  case  was  Doctor  Helena,  who  worked  wonders  in 
the  cure  of  the  king's  "  fistula,"  to  be  spoken  of  in  a  subsequent 
chapter  of  this  volume. 

"  The  Winter's  Tale  "  supplies  us  with  this  :  "  The  queen,  3'our 
mother,  rounds  apace:   she  is  spread  of  late  into  a  goodlj' bulk  " 


24  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

This  was  the  queen's  ladies' -in- waiting  in  converse  with  a  small  boy, 
the  "  prince."  Leontes,  the  boy's  father,  being  wofully  jealous  of 
his  wife,  thought  to  annoy  her  by  depriving  her  of  the  society  of  the 
child,  and  gave  orders  to  his  servants — "away  with  him;  and  let 
her  sport  herself  with  that  she's  big  with,  for  'tis  Polixenes  has 
made  her  swell  thus." 

One  of  the  king's  officers,  who  knew  that  the  queen  was  innocent 
of  the  charges  that  were  laid  at  her  door,  avowed  that  if  she  was 
proven  guilty  that  he  would  geld  his  three  daughters — fourteen  they 
should  not  see,  to  bring  false  generations.  The  more  euphoneous 
and  polite  term  normal  ovariotomy  (instead  of  geld)  was  not  found 
in  the  medical  vocabulary  of  the  age  in  which  Shakespeare  lived. 

This  idea  that  the  age  of  fourteen  is  the  beginning  of  the  nubile 
age  in  females,  is  made  prominent  in  more  than  one  place  in 
Shakespeare's  writings,  and  will  therefore  receive  a  share  of  atten- 
tion as  the  chapter  progresses.  Farther  on  in  the  same  "tale  "  is 
found  an  illustration  of  the  wide-spread  popular  error  that  abortion 
is  so  often  the  result  of  emotional  causes.  "  How  fares  our  gracious 
lady  ?  As  well  as  one  so  great,  and  so  f orlorne,  may  hold  together. 
On  her  frights  and  griefs  (which  never  tender  lady  hath  borne 
greater),  she  is  somewhat  before  her  time  deliver'd." 

It  is  somewhat  interesting  to  notice  that  in  the  above  quotation 
Shakespeare  held  almost  identically  to  the  ideas  widely  extant  to- 
day as  to  the  part  played  by  mental  disturbances  in  the  production 
of  abortion.  Strange  indeed  it  appears,  that  upon  this  point  the 
average  medical  man  of  this  advanced  age  should  have  gone  so  lit- 
tle beyond  in  exact  scientific  positivism  the  inherent  knowledge  of 
the  non  medical  mind  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  Many 
medical  minds  of  the  present  can  see  few  causes  of  abortion  other 
than  those  of  mental  emotions — and  even  here  cause  and  effect  are 
not  usually  very  clearly  associated  in  their  minds.  It  is  here  as  is 
too  often  the  case  in  other  medical  cases  with  this  class  of  loose 
thinkers,  a  declaration  merely — a  vague  generality  meant  to  sub- 
serve, for  the  present,  a  lack  of  real  knowledge  in  relation  to  the 
subject. 

It  is  not  denied  that  great  mental  shock  may  sometimes  be  the 
proximate  agency  in  the  production  of  premature  uterine  action  and 
expulsion  of  the  uterine  contents  ;  but  with  the  experience  of  many 
years  as  a  guide  the  writer  is  lead  to  think  it  an  unusual  source  of 
such  trouble.  In  fact,  the  causes  of  women's  being  "  somewhat  before 


OBSTETRICS.  25 

their  time  deliver'd  "  are  so  numerous  that  to  follow  the  subject 
through  all  its  sinuosities,  and  into  its  multitudinous  labyrinths, 
would  make  a  volume.  These  causes  may,  for  convenience,  be 
formulated  so  as  to  cover  most  of  the  ground  in  this  manner : 

1st.  Causes  which  reside  in  the  general  system  of  the  mother. 

2d.  Those  which  reside  alone  (and  are  therefore  local)  in  the  re- 
productive system  of  the  mother — and 

3d.  Those  which  pertain  or  belong  exclusively  to  the  ovum  itself. 

In  regard  to  the  first  of  these  divisions  it  may  be  said  to  be  by  far 
the  less  frequent  source  of  expulsion  of  the  uterine  contents.  This 
fact  is  well  illustrated  by  the  well  known  truth  that  in  tuberculosis, 
one  of  the  gravest  of  the  constitutional  maladies,  pregnancy  seems 
actually  to  exert,  for  the  time,  a  retarding  influence  in  regard  to 
its  progress — abortions,  premature  deliveries,  etc.,  being  almost  un- 
known occurrences  as  traceable  to  it.  But  there  are  other  constitu- 
tional conditions  in  which  the  reproductive  organs  may  participate 
onlj^  in  a  general  way,  in  which  miscarriages  are  very  common  in- 
deed, and  most  noticeable  among  these  is,  perhaps,  constitutional 
syphilis. 

But  it  is  not  to  chronic  constitutional  maladies  alone  that  we  may 
confine  our  remai'ks,  as  it  is  well  known  that  acute  maladies  of  va- 
rious kinds  affecting  the  system  at  large  are  prone  to  be  attended 
with  this  danger  when  happening  in  the  pregnant  woman.  Of  this 
class  may  be  named  typhoid  fever  and  the  exanthematous  fevers, — 
small-pox,  scarlatina,  etc.,  in  particular.  Defective  nutrition  is 
the  essential  factor  in  the  production  of  these  accidents  when  oc- 
curring under  such  circumstances  quite  probably.  The  fruit  withers 
and  falls  from  its  parent  stem  from  lack  of  the  food  proper  for  its 
growth  and  nourishment. 

Causes  of  the  second  variety  or  class  are  almost  innumerable,  and 
therefore  preponderate  largely  over  all  others  in  causing  abortions. 
It  is  not  to  conditions  of  the  uterus  singly  that  this  fact  applies  ;  the 
womb  is  not  alone  at  fault  always.  It  may  be  some  organ  or  tissue 
entirely  independent  of  the  uterus,  which  by  its  diseased  condition 
or  by  its  trespass  upon  the  womb  and  the  space  which  by  right 
belongs  to  it,  which  causes  all  the  trouble.  A  distended  urinary 
bladder  or  a  loaded  rectum  may  do  this ;  an  enlarged  ovary,  a 
dropsy  of  the  Fallopian  tube,  an  abscess  in  the  veseco-uterine  con- 
nective tissue,  an  hsematocele  in  the  recto-uterine  cul-de-sac,  tumors 
of    the   uterine   walls,  urinary  calculi    when    large,  exostoses  when 


26  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

springing  from  any  of  the  bony  surfaces  of  the  pelvic  walls,  tight 
corsets,  and  if  it  was  said  a  thousand  other  extrinsic  agencies  local 
in  their  operation  and  outside  of  the  womb  itself  operate  as  causes 
in  the  production  of  abortion,  it  would  be  no  exaggeration. 

Besides  these  there  are  the  mal-conditions  belonging  to  the  uterus 
proper  which  go  to  swell  the  list  of  causation.  It  may  be  set  down 
as  an  axiomatic  truth  that  an  absolutely  healthy  womb  does  not  expel 
its  contents  spontaneously  prematurely, — that  is,  before  the  expira- 
tion of  nine  months  after  conception  has  occurred.  It  must  be  nor- 
mal in  form,  in  structure,  in  size,  in  position,  and  in  its  attach- 
ments to  insure  a  normal  gestation. 

Malformations  of  this  organ  are  usually  congenital,  and  consist 
of  a  lack  of  development  in  some  portion — commonly,  of  one  horn 
or  lateral  portion  of  the  organ,  leaving  it  asymmetrical  in  outline  and 
abridging  the  normal  space  which  should  constitute  a  proper  uterine 
cavity, — thus  rendering  a  progressive  gestation  impossible.  Or  the 
change  in  form  may  be  the  result  of  neoplasms,  as  in  the  growth  of 
interstitial  or  other  fibroid  tumors,  the  effect  of  which  upon  the  fer- 
tile function  of  the  organ  is  mostly  the  same  as  in  the  foregoing  con- 
genital condition.  It  is  not  always  so,  however,  as  pregnancy  may 
and  often  does  progress  to  its  proper  termination,  a  uterine  tumor  pres- 
ent notwithstanding.  It  must  be  normal  in  structure.  The  uterus, 
when  its  walls  are  thickened  up  with  hyperplastic  depositions,  or 
when  left  in  a  state  of  sub-involution  after  child-birth  or  miscarriage, 
is  in  no  condition  to  carry  the  burden  of  a  pregnancy  to  the  end. 

The  muscular  and  mucous  coats  of  the  organ  may  at  the  'same 
time  be  involved  in  this  condition  of  turgescence  and  thickening, 
and  whether  one  or  both  are  involved  the  results  are  nearly  the  same. 
The  vascular  supply  is  not  in  healthy  trim, — the  distorted  tissues  have 
distorted  vessels  and  nerves  accompanying  them, — the  blood  supply 
is  here  too  small  and  there  too  great,  the  nerve  force  is  unequally 
distributed,  and  neuralgia  from  plethora  may  involve  one  nerve  fil- 
ament, while  irritability  of  another  may  ensue  from  anemia.  The 
local  hemorrhage  at  one  spot  and  local  anemia  at  another,  incident  to 
change  in  the  vascular  structure  of  the  organ,  are  incompatible  with 
the  growth  and  maturity  of  the  fruits  of  conception.  Changes  in  the 
size  and  position  of  the  womb,  when  not  the  result  of  the  progress 
of  the  pregnancy  itself,  are  prejudicial  to  the  continuation  of  preg- 
nancy from  the  same  general  facts  as  narrated  in  the  preceding 
paragraph,  though  in  a  less  degree  perhaps  than  when  accompanied 


OBSTETRICS.  27 

by  direct  local  lesions  of  the  lining  membrane  of  the  organ.  Endo- 
metritis is  no  doubt  a  fruitful  source  of  the  early  discharge  of  the 
ovum.  The  change  in  the  membrane  being  non-consonant  with  the 
nutrition  and  development  of  the  conception, — if  even  conception 
occur  under  such  a  condition  of  the  membrane.  Endo-cervicitis  is, 
however,  the  greater  obstacle  to  the  function  of  merely  impreg- 
nation. 

The  uterus  is  essentially  a  mobile  organ  when  it  is  in  its  healthy 
condition,  and  anything  that  tends  to  interfere  with  this  freedom  of 
movement, — any  event  or  condition  which  unduly  encroaches  upon  or 
hampers  it  in  its  normal  movements,  surely  have  a  tendency  to  pro- 
duce the  unhappy  event  which  ushers  in  and  gave  origin  to  this 
article.  In  iti  normal  state  it  almost  floats  unconstrainedly  in  the 
pelvic  cavity  ;  while  the  oi'gan  remains  so  we  see  few  or  no  abortions. 

Let  a  cellulitis  occur,  and  the  organ  become  agglutinated  by  in- 
flammatory products  and  closely  tied  to  some  of  the  neighboring 
organs,  even  at  a  single  point,  and  abortion  then  becomes  the  rule 
Instead  of  the  exception. 

Then  again  as  to  the  causes  which  reside  in  the  ovum  itself. 
These  may  reside  alone  in  the  sperm-cell.  It  may  have  in  it  vital 
elements  sufficient  to  fecundate  the  ovule,  thereby  exhaust  itself 
and  then  wither  and  die.  It  may  go  further,  but  to  die  in  the  near 
future  from  the  effects  of  a  morbific  principle  inherent  in  its  own 
organization,  as  from  the  poison  of  syphilis  for  example ;  and  this 
condition  may  pertain  to  the  germ-cell  as  well  as  the  sperm-cell. 
Like  other  animal  poisons,  this  also  has  under  these  circumstances 
the  power  of  multiplication,  as  we  see  the  terrible  effects  of  it  upon 
the  person  of  the  premature  little  being. 

The  cause  may  reside  or  be  engendered  in  the  membranes,  the 
umbilical  cord,  or  in  the  placenta  itself — inflammatory  processes  be- 
ing a  large  factor  in  such  change  as  connected  with  these.  Mechan- 
ical causes,  such  as  detachments  of  the  after-birth,  knotting  or  twist- 
ing, or  ruptures,  etc.,  of  the  cord  and  membranes,  are  also  among 
the  contingencies  which  may  cause  a  woman  to  be  "  before  her  time 
delivered."  Enough  has  doubtless  been  said  to  prove  that  Shake- 
speare might  have  been  correct  in  placing  the  miscarriage  spoken  of 
to  the  credit  of  fatigue  and  mental  worry ;  but  then  the  chances 
are  as  one  in  a  thousand  that  he  might  also  have  been  mistaken. 
Syphilitic  infection  and  hereditary  taints  are  so  common,  doubtless 
among  those  whose  marriages  of  consanguinity  keep  up  the  family 


28  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

chain  for  ages,  that  miscarriage  should  be  the  rule  in  place  of  the 
exception  among  the  nobility  of  the  old  countries. 

As  regards  the  age  at  which  the  menses  appear,  Shakespeare 
makes  his  lord  commit  an  error  in  placing  it  absolutely  at  the  age  of 
fourteen  years.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  parties  of  whom  he 
is  writing  are  located  in  Sicily,  in  latitude  36*  40'  and  38'^  20'  North, 
which,  owing  to  its  insular  climate,  would  have  much  the  same  tem- 
perature as  the  south  of  France,  where  statistics  show  that  the  largest 
number  of  girls  menstruate  for  the  first  time  at  from  the  fifteenth  to 
the  sixteenth  year  ;  but  the  error  most  noticeable  in  this  regard  is  in 
the  case  of  Juliet,  a  native  of  Verona,  which  is  situated  in  latitude 
45°  30'  North,  and  in  the  gorges  of  the  Tyrol,  where  a  robust  con- 
stitution would  naturally  retard  the  eruption  for  a  year  or  two  ;  in 
this  high  latitude  a  large  majority  of  young  females  do  not  "  see  " 
until  beyond  the  sixteenth,  and  a  large  proportion  not  until  the 
seventeenth  or  even  the  eighteenth  year. 

We  find  that  Juliet  was  fourteen  at  the  time  of  her  death,  and  the 
language  of  lady  Capulet  that,  "  younger  than  you,  here  in  Verona, 
ladies  of  esteem,  are  made  already  mothers :  by  my  count,  I  was 
your  mother,  much  upon  these  years  that  you  are  now  a  maid" — 
which  would  certainly  have  placed  the  good  lady's  first  period  as 
early  as  her  thirteenth  year. 

I  know  it  may  be  claimed  by  those  critically  inclined  that  the 
aristocratic  families  to  which  these  personages  are  supposed  to  have 
belonged  would  have  brought  them  "out"  much  sooner  than  the 
commonalty ;  and  that  the  excitement  incident  to  gay  life  could 
have  brought  about  a  premature  development  of  the  sexual  system, 
which  would  save  the  "bard  of  Avon  "  any  just  criticism  from  a  com- 
mon pen  ;  bht  this  may  be  met  with  the  fact  that  the  luxurious  ease 
common  to  the  great  in  our  day  and  nation  was  not  enjoyed  even 
among  the  princes  and  nobles  of  the  barbarous  age  of  which  the 
scene  and  incidents  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  claim  to  be  a  part.  The 
author,  no  doubt,  obtained  his  data  from  the  time  the  menses  usually 
appear  among  the  women  of  England,  and  approximates  the  time  or 
age  with  perhaps  as  much  accuracy  as  do  the  doctors,  notwith- 
standing their  special  enquiries. 

In  the  passage  next  to  be  quoted,  there  is  a  legal  question  to  be 
discussed,  and  as  Lord  Campbell  once  wrote  a  work  entitled  "  Shake- 
speare's Legal  Acquirements,"  I  certainly  should,  if  I  knew  just 
how  and  where,  procure  a  copy  of  his  work  to  assist  me  in  the  mat- 


OBSTETRICS.  29 

ter.  It  IS  the  case  of  the  doubtful  progeny  of  the  wife  of  Leontes, 
the  king  of  Sicily.  The  king  had  thrown  his  queen  into  prison  upon 
a  charge  of  adultery  with  his  former  friend,  Polixenes,  king  of 
Bohemia.  The  queen  was  delivered  in  prison,  and  the  good  lady  in 
attendance  on  her  desired  to  carry  the  babe  to  the  king  to  see  if  its 
presence  might  not  soften  the  rigor  of  his  "  unsane  lunes,"  but  the 
jailor  had  some  doubts  as  to  his  powers  under  the  law  to  let  the 
babe  pass  out  of  the  prison  doors  without  a  warrant ;  he  was  not 
sure  but  that  he  might  gravely  infringe  the  law  in  letting  it  pass,  and 
thus  bring  down  the  wrath  of  the  authorities  upon  his  own  devoted 
head.  The  lady  was  equal  to  the  emergency  however — as  women 
always  are  when  placed  in  trying  positions  of  such  a  character,  and 
pleaded  with  the  prison  officer  in  these  terms :  "  You  need  not  fear 
it,  sir ;  the  child  was  prisoner  to  the  womb,  and  is,  by  law  and  pro- 
cess of  great  nature,  thence  freed  and  enfranchis'd  ;  not  a  party  to  the 
anger  of  the  king,  nor  guilty  of,  if  any  be,  the  trespass  of  the  queen." 
It  does  not,  however,  come  further  in  the  scope  of  this  work  to  treat 
of  the  legal  aspects  of  this  case,  as  forensic  medicine  will  find  a  very 
limited  place  in  its  pages  ;  but  it  matters  little  what  the  lex  scrij^ta 
of  the  case  may  have  been,  justice  said  "let  her  pass." 

This  same  woman,  in  her  desire  to  save  the  queen  from  the  foul 
charge  of  inconstancy  to  her  marriage  vow,  presented  the  babe  to 
the  king,  and  endeavored  to  convince  him  of  the  legality  of  its 
paternity  by  the  following  exhibit :  ^  ^  cf^ 

"  Behold,  my  lords,  although  the  print  be  little,  the  whole  matter  (./4j^  ^<» 
and  copy  of  the  father:  eyes,  nose,  lip;  the  trick  of  his  frown, a  ^l^*^*^^ 
his  forehead ;  nay,  the  valley,  the  pretty  dimples  of  his  chin  and  ^eJU  ^ 
cheek  ;  his  smiles  ;  the  very  mould  and  frame  of  hand,  nail,  finger. — '^vj^*^  "9 
And,  thou,  good  goddess  Nature,  which  hast  made  it  so  like  him  ^**^^^  * 
that  got  it,  if  thou  hast  the  ordering  of  the  mind  too,  'mongst  all  ^'t^  ''^ 
colours,  no  yellow  in't;  lest  she  suspect,  as  he  does,  her  children  rV***V 
not  her  husband's."  ^*^  '^*' 

To  throw  the  odium  of  induction  of  premature  birth  on  the  hands    ^^•'^'^ 
of  the  king,  see  how  closely  and  with  what  tact  Shakespeare  keeps  '-'^*^ 
to  his  points;  he  says,   "although  the  print  be  little,"  etc.,  thus 
.  making  it  correspond  in  size  and  age. 

The  queen  was  brought  before  the  husband  for  trial,  and  makes 
her  own  defence  in  these  words  :  "  To  me  can  life  be  no  commodity : 
the  crown  and  comfort  of  my  life,  your  favor,  I  do  give  lost,  for  I 
do  feel  it  gone,  but  know  not  how  it  went.     My  second  joy,  and 


30  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

first-fruits  of  my  body,  from  his  presence  I  aru  barr'd,  like  one 
infectious.  My  third  comfort,  starr'd  most  unluckily,  is  from  my 
breast, — the  innocent  milk  in  its  most  innocent  mouth,  hal'd  out  to 
murder :  (  The  child  had  heen  banished  by  order  of  the  king)  myself  on 
every  post  proclaim'd  a  strumpet:  with  immodest  hatred,  the  child- 
bed privilege  denied,  which  'longs  to  women  of  all  fashion:  lastly, 
hurried  here  to  this  place  i'  the  open  air,  before  I  have  got  strength 
of  limb."    (^'■^  Limit"  in  Shakespeare.) 

It  seems  that  the  law  of  nature  has  so  indelibly  impressed  this 
matter  of  the  "child-bed  privilege"  upon  the  human  race,  that 
even  the  untutored  savage  is  tamely  subordinated  to  its  sway.  The 
deference  paid  even  by  the  American  Indian  to  his  squaw,  while  in 
the  parturient  condition,  was  aptly  illustrated  in  a  story  narrated 
to  the  writer  once  by  an  English  lady  of  intelligence,  who  had  long 
resided  among  the  aborigines  on  our  western  border.  The  narrative 
interested  me  much  at  the  time,  but  as  the  particulars  have  escaped 
my  memory,  I  can  only  present  it  in  substance.  The  wife  and  her 
lord,  husband,  or  "buck,"  or  whatever  title  is  used  by  them  to 
denote  the  head  of  the  household,  had  been  on  inimical  terms  for  a 
time,  had  had  a  domestic  broil  for  a  few  days,  and  to  rid  himself 
of  the  unpleasant  contiguity  of  a  morose  wife,  perhaps,  had  gone 
off  on  a  hunt.  "While  thus  absent,  the  squaw  took  it  into  her  head 
to  be  confined.  She  had,  on  all  former  occasions,  been  attended  by 
an  old  woman,  whose  fee,  if  anything  at  all,  was  but  a  nominal  one. 
This  time  she  employed  the  "  medicine  man,"  who  confronted  the 
"buck"  on  his  return  with  his  bill,  the  which  the  luckless  wight 
was  glad  to  liquidate  at  the  expense  of  his  most  valuable  pony. 
It  was  an  obstetric  fee,  and  his  honor  was  too  exalted  to  quibble  over 
it,  be  the  sum  small  or  great.  Herein  could  many  of  his  pale-faced 
brothers  learn  a  wholesome  lesson. 

The  babe  who  had  been  banished  by  her  father  to  a  strange  coast, 
and  who  was  thought  by  the  king  to  have  been  murdered  by  those 
to  whose  charge  she  was  given,  was  however  trusted  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  a  wilderness — found  and  raised  by  a  shepherd,  and  when 
grown  courted  and  married  the  prince  of  the  country.  She  then 
returned  to  the  land  of  her  nativity,  where  she  learned  her  own 
history,  and  was  taken  to  see  her  mother's  statue — who,  it  was 
supposed,  had  died  in  prison.  The  old  king,  who  was  yet  alive, 
says  to  his  son-in-law:  "  Yotir  mother  was  most  true  to  wedlock, 
prince,  for  she  did  print  your  royal   father  (Polixenes)  off,  con- 


OBSTETRICS.  31 

ceiving  you  ;"  whilst  the  bride  reached  forth  her  hand  to  the  statue 
of  her  mother,  saying:  "Lady,  dear  queen,  that  ended  where  I 
began,  give  me  that  hand  to  kiss."  {'Ticas  her  mother,  and  not  a 
statue.) 

Autolicus,  at  the  shepherd's  feast,  tells  the  gaping  plebeians  of 
a  usurer's  wife  who  was  delivered  of  twenty  money-bags  at  a  birth, 
one  of  his  fair  hearers  praying  to  be  excused  from  marrying  a 
usurer ! 

In  King  John,  A.  i.,  S.  i.,  occurs  another  case  involving  an 
amount  of  scientific  Inquiry,  both  medically  and  legally,  to  invest 
it  with  special  interest.  It  is  a  case  where  a  charge  of  illegitimacy 
was  made,  based  upon  the  fact  that  a  viable  child  was  born  fourteen 
weeks  before  "term" — counting  from  the  period  of  the  return  of 
the  husband,  who  had  been  from  home  in  a  distant  country,  in  a 
very  protracted  absence.  To  get  more  fairly  at  the  points  in  the 
case,  it  will  be  necessary  to  give  a  somewhat  lengthy  extract : 

King  John.     "What  men  are  you? 

Philip  Faulconbridge  (called  the  Bastard).  Your  faithful  sub- 
ject I,  a  gentleman  born  in  Northamptonshire,  and  eldest  son,  as  I 
suppose,  to  Robert  Faulconbridge,  a  soldier,  by  the  honor-giving 
hand  of  Coeur-de-Lion  knighted  in  the  field. 

King  John.     What  art  thou?     (To  another.) 

Robert.     Son  and  heir  to  that  same  Faulconbridge. 

King  John.  Is  that  the  elder,  and  thou  the  heir  ?  You  came  not 
of  one  mother  then,  it  seems. 

Bastard.  Most  certain  of  one  mother,  mighty  king ;  that  is  well 
known,  and,  as  I  think,  one  father;  but  for  the  certain  knowledge 
of  that  truth  I  put  you  o'er  to  heaven  and  my  mother:  of  that  I 
doubt,  as  all  men's  children  may.  (Here  we  have,  what  occurs 
very  rarely  in  Shakespeare's  writings,  a  contradiction  in  the  same 
paragraph ;  he  first  thinks  he  is,  and  then  he  thinks  he  is  not,  his 
brother's  father's  son — that  is,  old  Robert  Faulconbridge's  son.) 

Elinor.  Out  on  thee,  rude  man!  thou  dost  shame  thy  mother, 
and  wound  her  honor  with  this  diflfldence. 

Bastard.  I,  madam?  No,  I  have  no  reason  for  it ;  that  is  my 
brother's  place,  and  none  of  mine;  the  which  if  he  can  prove,  'a 
pops  me  out  from  fair  five  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Heaven  guard 
my  mother's  honor  and  my  land  ! 

King  John.  A  good  blunt  fellow.  Why,  being  younger  born, 
dost  he  lay  claim  to  thy  inheritance? 


32  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Bastard.  I  know  not  why,  except  to  get  the  land.  But  once  he 
slander'd  me  with  bastardy:  but  whe'r  I  be  as  true  begot,  or  no, 
that  still  I  lay  upon  my  mother's  head  ;  but  that  I  am  as  well  begot, 
my  liege  (fair  fall  the  bones  that  took  the  pains  for  me!),  compare 
our  faces,  and  be  judge  yourself.  If  old  Sir  Robert  did  beget  us 
both,  and  were  our  father,  and  this  son  like  him, 

O !  old  Sir  Robert,  father,  on  my  knee 

I  give  heaven  thanks  I  was  not  like  to  thee. 

King  John.     Why,  what  a  madcap  hath  heaven  sent  us  here. 

Elinor.  He  hath  a  trick  of  Coeur-de-Lion's  face ;  the  accent  of 
his  tongue  affecteth  him.  Do  you  not  read  some  tokens  of  my  son 
in  the  large  composition  of  this  man  ? 

King  John.  Mine  eye  hath  well  examined  his  parts,  and  finds 
them  perfect  Richard. — Sirrah,  speak:  what  doth  move  you  to 
claim  your  brother's  land? 

Bastard.  Because  he  hath  a  half-face,  like  my  father,  with  that 
half-face  would  he  have  all  my  land:  a  half-fac'd  groat,  five 
hundred  pounds  a  year! 

Robert.  My  gracious  liege,  when  that  my  father  liv'd,  your 
brother  did  employ  my  father  much. 

Bastard.  Well,  sir,  by  this  you  cannot  get  my  land.  Your  tale 
must  be  how  he  employ'd  my  mother. 

Robert.  And  once  despatch' d  him  in  an  embassy  to  Germany, 
there,  with  the  emperor,  to  treat  of  high  affairs  touching  that  time. 
The  advantage  of  his  absence  took  the  king,  and  in  the  meantime 
sojourn'd  at  my  father's;  when  how  he  did  prevail,  I  shame  to 
speak,  but  truth  is  truth :  large  lengths  of  seas  and  shores  between 
my  father  and  my  mother  lay,  as  I  have  heard  ray  father  speak 
himself,  when  this  same  lusty  gentleman  was  got.  Upon  his  death- 
bed he  by  will  bequeath' d  his  lands  to  me ;  and  took  it,  on  his 
death,  that  this,  my  mother's  son,  was  none  of  his  ;  and  if  he  were, 
he  came  into  the  world  full  fourteen  weeks  before  the  course  of 
time." 

It  has  been  argued,  that  if  a  child  born  at  the  fifth  or  even  the 
sixth  month  survive,  this  fact  alone  should  be  held  as  evidence  of 
illegitimacy — that  is,  where  concurrent  circumstances  point  to  the 
fact ;  but  according  to  common  English  law  it  is  held  that  it  is  not 
essential  that  a  child  be  born  capable  of  living  to  any  specific  age, 
or  to  the  full  of  a  certain  number  of  hours,   days  or  mouths,  to 


OBSTETRICS.  33 

entitle  it  to  inherit;  hut  it  is  sufheient  if  the  child  have  been  born 
alive. 

This  construction  of  the  law  certainly  would  vest  the  rights  of 
inheritance  in  the  Bastard,  the  point  of  legitimacj^  alone  considered  ; 
for  if  it  was  a  fact  that  he  was  born  at  the  end  of  the  twenty-second 
week  of  gestation,  he  could  not  only  have  lived,  but  could  even 
have  grown  into  the  "  lusty  gentleman  "  which  we  now  find  him. 
Though  of  the  legal  aspect  of  the  case,  as  regards  rights  to 
property,  it  is  not  our  province  to  write,  but  the  question  as  to 
whether  a  child  born  fourteen  weeks  prior  to  the  end  of  the  time 
when  an  ordinary  gestation  is  completed — that  is,  at  the  end  of  the 
twenty-second  week — can  live  and  grow  to  adult  age,  is  clearly  one 
for  the  science  of  medicine  to  settle.  Upon  theoretical  assumptions 
alone  this  question  could  not  be  adjusted;  only  facts  gathered  from 
actual  observation  of  the  witness,  or  those  derived  from  records  of 
undoubted  authenticity,  should  be  offered  as  testimon}^  by  a  medical 
expert  in  a  case  of  this  kind.  From  the  most  reliable  data  which 
we  are  able  to  gather,  it  does  not  seem  improbable  that  a  case  may 
occasionally  happen  where  a  child  even  at  the  early  period  of  the 
hoentieth  week  may  not  only  be  born  viable,  but  may  survive  to 
pubert}^  or  to  old  age.     I  quote  two  cases  from  Taylor : 

"Dr.  Barker,  of  Dumfries,  narrates  a  case  in  which  a  child  was 
born  at  the  one  hundred  and  fifty-eighth  day  of  pregnane}^  or  at 
the  end  of  twent^'-two  weeks  and  four  days  after  intercourse.  The 
child  weighed  one  pound  and  measured  eleven  inches.  It  did  not 
suck  properl}'  till  after  the  lapse  of  a  month,  and  she  didn't  walk 
until  she  was  nineteen  months  old ;  was  sprightly,  but  at  the  age 
of  three  and  a  half  years  only  weighed  twenty-nine  and  a  half 
pounds." 

On  a  trial  involving  the  legitimacy  of  the  child  of  the  wife  of  u 
minister,  which  was  born  on  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-fourth 
day  after  marriage,  one  reputable  medical  witness  testified  that  he 
had  "  attended  a  case  where  the  child  was  certainly  born  at  the  end 
of  the  nineteenth  week  of  pregnancy,  and  the  child  lived  a  j-ear  and 
a  half." 

Occurrences  of  this  kind  are  so  rare,  however,  that  the  judgment 
rendered  by  king  John — given  upon  that  plea  alone — that  is,  had  he 
based  his  decision  upon  the  fact  that  viability  is  probable  in  a  child 
born  at  the  end  of  twenty-two  pregnant  weeks,  would  certainly  hav(; 
been  giving  too  great  a  weight  to  a  fact  which  can  only  be  admitted 


34  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN 

as  a  possibility;  and  besides,  the  moral  circumstances  connected 
with  tlie  case  would,  if  proven  before  an  impartial  jury,  have  cer- 
tainly reversed  the  judgment  of  the  king.  Indeed,  after  the 
decision  had  been  rendered  in  favor  of  Pliilip,  lady  Faulconbridge 
admitted  his  illegitimacy.  I  will  give  the  language  used  by  the 
king,  and  the  reasoning  which  he  brought  to  bear  in  guiding  him  in 
his  decision : 

John.  \_To  Robert  Faulconbridge.']  "  Sirrah,  your  brother  is 
legitimate:  j^our  father's  wife  did  after  wedlock  bear  him ;  and  if 
she  did  plaj'^  false,  the  fault  was  hers,  which  fault  lies  on  the 
hazards  of  all  husbands  that  many  wives." 

The  king  did  not  pretend  to  found  the  verdict  on  justice,  but 
only  adhered  blindly  to  a  rule  which  had  clearly  been  shown  to  have 
in  this  case  an  exception,  that  wedlock  is  presumptive  evidence  of 
the  legality  of  all  the  progeny  produced  within  its  pale.  Were  we 
called  to  testify  in  a  case  of  the  kind,  we  should  give  it  as  an 
opinion  that  in  a  case  where  the  child  had  been  born  fourteen  weeks 
prior  to  the  end  of  the  thirty-sixth  week  of  the  gestative  condition, 
that  grave  doubts  might  be  entertained  of  its  legitimacy,  if  its 
development  and  other  circumstances  gave  any  room  for  suspicion 
that  the  wife  had  been  "  sluc'd  "  in  the  husband's  absence,  and  his 
"pond  fish'd  by  Sir  Smile,  his  next  neighbor."  This  proved  to 
have  been  the  case  with  the  Faulconbridge  familj^,  the  lady  herself 
admitting  the  fact  thus: 

"King  Richard  was  thy  father.  By  long  and  vehement  suit  I 
was  seduc'd  to  make  room  for  him  in  my  husband's  bed. — Heaven! 
lay  not  my  trangression  to  my  charge;  thou  art  [to  Philij?]  the 
issue  of  my  dear  offence."  This  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  error 
of  John's  decision,  and  ought  to  have  established  the  validity  of 
Robert's  title.     But  enough. 

Elinor,  widow  of  king  Henry  the  Second,  and  her  daughter-in- 
law  Constance,  were  on  inimical  terms,  and  bandied  foul  epithets 
without  stint  or  measure.  The  daughter  thus  accuses  her  mother: 
"  Thy  sins  are  visited  upon  this  poor  child ;  the  canon  of  the  law  is 
laid  on  him,  being  but  the  second  generation  removed  from  thy 
sin  conceiving  womb." 

It  is  natural  to  infer  from  the  foregoing  paragraph  that  history 
Avould  give  some  data  upon  which  to  found  the  intimation  which  is 
there  clearly  made  touching  a  lack  of  chastitj'  on  the  part  of  Elinor, 


OBSTETUICS.  35 

the  widow' d  queen  of  the  second  Henry  ;  from  the  history  of  that 
period  now  at  my  command,  it  is  not  apparent  that  such  charges 
were  reall}^  ever  preferred  against  her.  Tiiis  same  Constance,  who 
seems  to  have  been  the  widow  of  the  king's  eldest  son,  and  who 
had  died  before  his  father,  somewhere  about  1185  or  6,  leaving  one 
son,  Arthur,  who  his  mother,  then  a  scheming  widow,  wished 
to  place  upon  the  English  throne ;  and  failing  in  accomplishing 
her  purpose,  even  after  entering  into  an  arrangement  with  the  king 
of  France,  who  ultimately  "went  back  on  her," — her  son  in  the 
meantime  being  taken  prisoner  by  his  uncle  John,  who  was  then 
king,  and  who  was  accused  of  murdering  the  boy  with  his  own 
hand — she  thus  pours  forth  a  tirade  of  bitterness  against  mankind 
in  general,  ending  in  these  words:  "Let  wives  with  child  pray, 
that  their  burdens  may  not  fall  this  day,  lest  their  hopes  pro- 
digiously be  cross'd."  Next  we  have,  "Have  we  more  sons,  or 
are  we  like  to  have?  Is  not  my  teeming  date  drunk  up  with  time, 
and  wilt  thou  pluck  my  fair  son  from  mine  age,  and  rob  me  of  a 
happy  mother's  name?"  This  was  the  language  of  the  wife  of 
the  Duke  of  York,  in  Richard  the  Second,  when  expostulating 
with  her  husband,  who  had  determined  to  acquaint  the  king  of  a 
plot  against  his  life, — his  own  son  being  one  of  the  conspirators ; 
she  then  goes  on:  "  Hadst  thou  groan'd  for  him  as  I  have  done, 
thou  wouldst  be  more  pitiful.  But  now  I  know  thy  mind  ;  thou 
dost  suspect  that  I  have  been  disloyal  to  thy  bed,  and  that  he  is  a 
bastard,  not  thy  son." 

York  flies  to  the  king,  and  whilst  he  is  divulging  the  plot  his  wife 
also  hastens  thither,  when  the  old  duke  accosts  her  thus : 

"Thou  frantic  woman,  what  dost  thou  make  here? 
Shall  thy  old  dugs  once  more  a  traitor  rear?  " 

It  would  seem  that  each  of  them  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  desola- 
tion attending  the  "sere  and  yellow  leaf"  of  age,  and  were  sad 
in  the  prospect  of  henceforth  walking  the  down  grade  to  the  tomb, 
without  even  a  pleasing  retrospection  to  win  them  for  a  moment 
from  the  cheerless  monotony  of  their  journey.  Asperity  is  not,  in 
general,  a  concomitant  of  this  period  of  human  existence — a  pensive 
realization  of  the  fact  that  the  spring-time  of  life  has  passed — the 
seed  has  been  sown,  the  hej-daj'  of  existence  has  been  reached  and 
the  harvest  gathered  in,  and  the  husbandman  has  nothing  more  to 
do  but  set  thoughtfully  by  through  the  autumn  and  winter,  with  his 


36  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

hands  resting  on  the  top  of  his  staff,  contemplating  the  shadows 
as  they  silently  fall  around  him. 

Patriotism,  or  love  of  one's  king,  would  hardly,  in  these  days  of 
self-love,  bear  such  fruits  of  loyalty  as  was  apparent  in  this  good 
but  mistaken  old  York. 

Prince  "Hal,"  the  riotous  companion  of  Falstaff,  and  afterwards 
the  wise  and  good  king,  Henry  the  Fifth,  was  renowned  for  his 
sound  and  pertinent  witticisms.  Upon  the  question  of  population, 
on  one  occasion,  he  made  the  remark:  "The  midwives  say,  the 
children  are  not  in  fault,  whereupon  the  world  increases,  and  kin- 
dreds are  mightily  strengthened ;  "  which  makes  it  apparent  that 
"  Hal,"  had  he  lived  in  this  age,  would  no  doubt  be  a  worthy  mem- 
ber of  the  London  Dialectical  Society,  and  discuss  "  Social  Science" 
with  as  much  logic  as  Herbert  Spencer  and  the  rest  of  them. 

It  is  also  apparent  that  "Sir  John"  himself  had  an  idea  or  two  in 
the  same  direction,  as  he  places  his  estimate  of  prince  John  before 
the  world  in  plain  language ;  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
prince  after  the  close  of  the  military  campaign  in  which  he,  Sir 
John,  won  such  renown,  and  upon  the  occasion  when  he  delivered 
up  to  the  prince  the  rebel  prisoner  Colevile  ;  here  is  the  colloquy : 

Falstaff.  "My  lord,  I  beseech  j'ou,  give  me  leave  to  go  through 
Glostershire ;  and  when  you  come  to  court,  stand  my  good  lord, 
pray,  in  your  good  report. 

Prince  John.  Fare  you  well,  Falstaff;  I,  in  my  condition,  sliall 
better  speak  of  you  than  you  deserve. 

Falstaff.  (To  himself.)  I  would,  you  had  but  the  wit:  'twere 
better  than  your  dukedom. — Good  faith,  this  same  young,  sober- 
blooded  boy  doth  not  love  me,  nor  a  man  cannot  make  him  laugh; 
but  that's  no  marvel,  he  drinks  no  wine.  There's  never  any  of 
these  demure  boys  come  to  any  proof,  for  their  drink  doth  so  over- 
cool  their  blood,  and  making  many  fish  meals,  that  they  fall  into  a 
kind  of  male  green-sickness ;  and  then,  when  they  marry,  they  get 
wenches." 

In  these  days,  when  the  action  of  all  alcoholic  liquors  upon  the 
human  economy  occupies  so  unsettled  a  position  in  the  minds  of 
therapeutists,  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  idea  entertained  as  to 
its  powers  in  influencing  the  sex  of  our  offspring,  as  suggested  in 
the  last  quotation,  is  true  or  false.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  wine 
is  a  great  provocative  to  venereal  appetite,  and  from  that  fact  it 


OBSTETRICS.  37 

might  be  inferred  that  it  might  on  occasions  spur  one  of  those  cold 
youtlis  into  a  condition  of  amorous  excitement,  whereby  he  might  be- 
get a  boy  in  place  of  a  "  wench."  This  could  only  have  reason  for 
a  basis  however,  under  very  special  restrictions,  or  when  adminis- 
tered by  the  direction  of  a  scientific  mind,  with  a  view  to  build  up 
the  weakened  functions,  as  in  the  following  case,  treated  by  Dr. 
Wilks,  an  English  physician,  very  lately  : 

''  A  little  boy,  aged  five  years  and  a  half,  was  admitted  to  Guy's 
hospital  in  an  extreme  state  of  emaciation  on  Oct.  25th.  No  disease 
could  be  found  in  him,  and  it  was  thought  his  ailments  might  be 
due  merely  to  starvation.  In  spite,  however,  of  good  living  and  a 
little  wine,  he  did  not  improve,  and  therefore,  after  having  been 
in  till  Dec.  15th,  he  was  ordered  one  drachm  of  rectified  spirits 
four  times  a  day.  In  a  few  days  he  was  better,  was  soon  able  to 
leave  his  l)ed,  and  lias  been  growing  fatter  and  stronger  ever 
since." 

The  "sack,"  wine,  etc.,  taken  in  excess,  according  to  the  plan 
of  Falstaff,  would  not  have  an}^  tendenc}'  to  aid  in  the  production 
of  robust  children,  either  of  the  one  sex  or  the  other,  as  it  is 
a  lamentable  fact  that  a  large  majorit}-  of  the  pitiful  humanity  that 
people  our  public  charities  are  the  offspring  of  drunken  parents ; 
this  is  not  only  so  where  poverty  is  the  cause  of  the  change,  but  is 
also  the  case  where  physical  and  particularly  mental  infirmit}^  is  the 
cause  which  demands  the  interference  of  charity — thus  plainly 
telling  us  that  though  Falstaff's  idea  might  reach  consummation 
one  time  in  a  thousand,  it  will  not  do  to  build  upon  as  a  rule. 
Besides,  sack  nor  any  of  its  kindred  compounds  are  likely  to  bene- 
fit "  chlorosis  "   either  in  the  male  or  female. 

The  eating  of  fish  certainly  finds  a  misapplication  in  this  instance, 
as  it  is  now  supposed  that  the  white  meats,  and  most  noticeably 
among  them  fish,  serves  as  the  best  pabulum  for  brain  workers,  thus 
conducing  to  a  mental  and  physical  state  the  exact  antipode  to  both 
•  green  sickness  "  and  the  desire  to  the  abuse  of  the  sexual  function. 
At  least  this  is  claimed  as  regards  the  application  to  more  elegant 
society,  though  criticism  might  find  vantage  ground  by  referring  to 
the  mental,  moral  and  physical  status  of  the  inhabitants  of  fishing 
villages — those  whose  diet  consists  almost  solely  of  fish.  The 
same  might,  perhaps,  be  said  however  of  any  people  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  a  diversity  of  alimentary  substances.  I  do  not  find 
any  statistical  data  to  show  that  in  fishing  communities  female 
predominates  over  male  births. 


38  SHAKKSPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN.  / 

If  drinking  "  sack"  liad  been  the  handmaiden  of  procreation  in 
the  day  whereof  we  write,  we  might  have  reposed  some  confidence 
in  the  claim  of  pregnancy  put  in  by  the  notorious  bawd  Mrs.  Doll 
Tearsheet;  but  even  with  this  beverage  as  a  "  partus  accelerator" 
we  doubt  whether  she  ever  conceived  or  brought  forth  anything 
save  a  bundle  of  notorious  falsehoods,  as  is  the  wont  of  all  her 
class.  At  the  time  she  makes  the  asseveration  of  pregnancy  she  is 
in  the  hands  of  tlie  officers  of  the  law,  and  perhaps  only  feigned 
pregnancy  to  shield  herself  from  the  consequences  of  crime,  as  it 
is  not  at  all  likel}^  that  one  so  far  gone  as  she  in  the  trade  of  licen- 
tiousness would  become  fruitful.  Here  is  what  she  says  in  con- 
versation with  the  officer: 

1st  Officer.  "The  constables  have  delivered  her  over  to  me,  and 
she  shall  have  whipping-cheer  enough  I  warrant  her.  There  hath 
been  a  man  or  two  lately  killed  about  her. 

Doll.  Nut-hook,  nut-hook,  you  lie.  Come  on :  I'll  tell  thee 
what,  thou  damned  tripe-visaged  rascal,  an  the  child  I  now  do  go 
with  do  miscarry,  thou  hadst  better  thou  hadst  struck  thy  mother, 
thou  paper-faced  villain. 

Hostess.  O,  the  lord,  that  Sir  John  were  come!  he  would  make 
this  a  bloody  day  to  some  body.  But  I  pray  God  the  fruit  of  her 
womb  do  miscarry  !  " 

The  gestation  of  "  Mistress  Doll "  was  evidently  a  hoax,  because, 
as  stated  above,  it  is  seldom  indeed  that  a  female  so  old  in  sexual 
license  as  "Mrs.  Doll"  preserves  the  power  of  reproduction.  The 
oft-repeated  and  finally  the  continued  engorgement  of  the  pelvic 
organs  incident  to  the  frequent  erotic  excitement  to  which  such 
women  are  constantly  exposed,  produces  a  change  in  the  tissues  of 
the  reproductive  organs  incompatible  with  fruitful  ovulation  and 
germination.  It  is  well  known  that  these  women,  when  some  years 
advanced  in  their  lamentable  trade,  do  not  become  pregnant — the 
probable  sin  of  abortion,  added  to  their  other  excesses,  thus  being 
spared  to  them. 

In  King  Henry  the  Sixth  is  used,  illustratively,  the  term  "  a 
child's  bearing  cloth."  Obstetric  literature  and  practice  now 
recognize  no  article  of  the  lying-in  chamber  by  that  name  specifi- 
cally, but  the  presumption  is  that  the  writer  has  reference  to  the 
cloth  on  which  the  nui-se  receives  the  new-born  babe  from  the  hands 
of  the  accoucheur,  immediately  after  its  separation  from  the  secun- 
dines — the  good   nurse  usually,   in  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  the 


OBSTETRICS.  39 

moment,   seizing  the  first  article  with  which   her  hand  comes  in 
contact,  whether  it  be  a  bed  comforter  or  a  lace  pocket-handkerchief. 
I  liad  a  ludicrous  incident  in  this  connexion  to  befall  myself  on 
one  occasion.     As  is  usual,  I  believe,  among  doctors  of  the  present 
(l:iy,  I  had   "palled  off  my  coat  and  rolled  up   my  sleeves,"  the 
=  better  to  facilitate  my  accoucheural  duties  ;  and  when  the  labor  was 
«  finished,  my  hands  washed,   etc.,  and  I  ready  to   take   my  leave, 
J  behold  I  could  not  find  my  coat !     After  much  search  and  diligent 
!  enquiry,  however,  it  was  found  deeply  hidden  in  the  recesses  of 
>   the  cradle,  with  the  new-comer  snugly  ensconced  therein !     I  con- 
soled myself  with  the  remembrance  of  the  old  saw  that  "accidents 
will  happen,"  etc. 

In  Henry  the  Sixth  is  also  an  account  of  the  trial  and  condem- 
nation of  the  "  Maid  of  Orleans,"  wherein  the  Poet  attaches  afoul 
blemish  to  the  character  of  that  unfortunate  female,  unworthy  of  a 
great  man — one  which  should  have  called  down  the  stern  condem- 
nation not  only  of  the  mighty  and  chivalrous  nation  to  which  Joan  of 
Arc  belonged,  but  also  of  the  generous  and  noble  of  every  land;  this 
is  more  particularly  so,  since  history  gives  us  no  shadow  of  a 
ground  for  sustaining  him  in  an  assumption,  which  he  only  put 
forth,  doubtless,  to  gratify  a  national  antagonism  that  has  from  the 
earliest  days  existed  between  the  Celts  and  Anglo-Saxons.  He 
brings  her  forward  in  a  pretext  to  procure  a  stay  of  execution  of 
the  sentence  of  death  by  setting  up  a  plea  of  pregnancy,  which 
stay  was  allowable  at  that  period,  provided  a  commission  of  mid- 
wives,  who  were  usually  appointed  to  investigate  the  matter,  re- 
ported that  she  the  condemned  were  found  actually  to  be  in  that 
condition.  She  says  to  her  enemies:  "Will  nothing  turn  your 
unrelenting  hearts?  Then,  Joan,  discover  thine  infirmity,  that 
warranteth  by  law  to  be  thy  privilege. — I  am  with  child,  ye  bloody 
homicides :  murder  not,  then,  the  fruit  within  my  womb,  although 
ye  hale  me  to  a  violent  death."  It  was  decided  not  to  entertain 
this  appeal,  and  the  unhappy  "visionary"  was  roasted  at  the 
stake. 

Referring  to  the  custom  then  common  of  appointing  a  commission 
of  raidwives  to  determine  a  question  in  science  which  involved  the 
life  or  death  of  an  individual  may  seem  to  us  in  the  highest  degree 
farcical,  but  in  reality  a  board  of  examiners  composed  of  such 
material  would  know  just  as  much  with  regard  to  the  certainty  of 
the   pregnant  condition  as  would  a  commission  of  the  most  enlight- 


40  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

ened  physicians.  By  tliis  I  mean  to  say  that  there  are  no  means 
yet  known  to  the  medical  world  by  which  pregnancy  can  be  posi- 
tively known.  Certainly  there  are  many  ways  "by  which  the  truth 
is  approximated,  and  by  which  the  intelligent  pliysician  may  be  able 
to  satisfy  his  own  mind  as  to  a  given  case,  but  to  say  yes  or  no 
under  oath  would  be  quite  another  matter.  We  are  furnished  with 
much  better  and  more  specific  data  when  we  wish  to  say  a  woman 
is  not  pregnant.  The  uterus  that  is  not  increased  in  size  above  the 
normal  (to  that  woman)  is  not  pregnant.  It  may  be  increased  in  its 
dimensions  and  yet  not  be  pregnant  however,  and  this  is  often,  very 
often,  the  case. 

In  forming  our  diagnosis  as  to  whether  pregnane^''  exists,  it  must 
first  be  ascertained  whether  or  not  there  has  been  a  chance  for  con- 
tact between  the  seminal  elements  of  tlie  female  and  male ;  this  is 
a  requirement  indisi)ensable  to  fecundation.  This  union  or  blend- 
ing of  the  sexual  elements  must  find  a  proper  nidus  in  which  to 
germinate.  It  is  not  essential,  as  would  appear  from  the  investiga- 
tions of  Sims,  that  there  be  actual  contact  between  the  persons  of 
the  parties  who  furnish  the  spermatozoa  and  the  ovule.  The  evi- 
dence positive  that  the  copulative  act  has  happened  can  only  assure 
us  that  we  have  a  first  stepping-stone,  and  nowhere,  in  any 
direction,  is,  perhaps,  to  be  seen  a  positive  footing.  Doubt  of  the 
pregnane}^  may  yet  be  as  prominent  as  ever  unless  there  be  present 
other  phenomena  characteristic  of  the  condition.  Of  these,  prob- 
ably, suspension  of  the  menses,  morning  nausea,  irrascibility  of 
temper,  appetite  for  unusual  articles  of  diet,  salivation,  evident 
growth  of  the  uterus — are  as  unfailing  signs  as  can  be  observed 
during  tlie  early  months.  The  click  of  the  foetal  heart,  at  a  later 
period,  is  of  some  value. 

Of  course  it  is  not  the  province  of  a  work  like  this  to  enumerate 
all  that  might  be  said  upon  a  subject  so  extended,  but  the  object 
sought  in  the  foregoing  is  merely  to  call  the  attention  of  the  reader 
to  a  realization  of  the  fact  of  the  limited  amount  of  positive  knowl- 
edge possessed,  even  at  this  late  day,  by  the  profession  upon  this 
seemingly  simple  subject.  It  is  thought  by  persons  outside  of 
medicine,  very  generally,  that  any  medical  man  ought  to  be  com- 
petent to  solve  piositively  a  problem  which  to  their  seeming  is  very 
plain. 

The  doctrine  lately  put  forth  by  Jorisenne,  that  pregnancy  may 
be  diagnosed   as   early  as   the   conclusion   of  the  first  month  by  a 


OBSTETRICS.  41 

uniformity  in  the  frequency  of  the  pulse  in  the  erect,  reclining  or 
horizontal  position  of  the  body  of  the  female,  is  perhaps  of  little 
worth  as  a  positive  means  ;  it  has,  however,  the  merit  of  easily 
being  put  to  the  test  of  actual  experimentation.  If  found  to  be 
true  upon  further  investigation,  it  will  prove  all  the  more  valuable 
from  the  fact  of  its  simplicity. 

King  Edward  in  l)attle  with  the  forces  led  by  the  famous  Warwick 
was  defeated,  and  himself  taken  prisoner.  Queen  Elizabeth  thus 
laments  the  catastrophe : 

Rivers.     "The    news,    I    must   confess,  are  full  of    grief; 
Yet,  gracious  madam,  bear  it  as  you  may: 
AVarwick  may  lose,  that  now  has  won  the  day. 
Elizabeth.     Till  then  fair  hope  must  hinder  life's  decay  ;  and  I 
the  rather  wean  me  from  despair,  for  love  of  Edward's  offspring  in 
my  womb:  this  is   it  that  makes  me  bridle  passion,  and  bear  with 
mildness  ni}^  misfortune's  cross:    Ay,  ay,  for  this  I  draw  in  many  a 
tear,  and  stop  the  rising  of  blood-sucking  sighs. 

Lest  with  my  sighs  or  tears  I  blast  or  drown 

King  Edward's  fruit,  true  heir  to  th'  English  crown." 

Pregnancy  exerts  a  very  powerful  influence  upon  the  mental  con- 
dition of  many  patients,  elevating  and  enlivening  the  spirits  of 
some,  while  it  causes  depression  and  despondency  in  others.  It  is 
common,  I  apprehend,  for  a  large  majority  of  women  to  pass 
through  the  gestative  process  'mid  more  of  apprehension  and 
solicitude  than  is  generally  supposed.  This  is  a  necessary  accom- 
paniment of  the  pains  and  certain  amount  of  danger  which  every 
female  instinctivelj'  recognizes  as  inseparably  connected  with  the 
parturient  function  ;  it  is  under  such  circumstances  that  ho2)e — that 
sentiment  or  principle  of  the  human  soul  without  which  all  in  this 
life  would  be  black  and  comfortless  despair,  comes  in  to  sustain 
and  encourage  them.  If  there  is  ever  an  hour  in  human  existence 
when  a  person  needs  the  kindly  offices  and  sympathies  of  husband 
and  friends,  it  is  found  in  the  life  of  woman  during  pregnancy. 
To  carry  to  a  successful  termination  a  gestation  which  is  the  pro- 
duct of  the  man  she  loves,  a  woman  will  make  the  most  unheard-of 
sacrifices ;  and  more  particularly  is  this  so  if  the  partner  to  her 
condition  be  dead  or  in  trouble.  The  whole  idea  of  Elizabeth  could 
be  summed  up  in  the  simple  sentence — "something  to  love  and 
live  for." 


42  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

It  is  a  curious  but  cogent  commentary  upon  tlie  force  and  cliar- 
acter  of  tlie  writings  of  Shakespeare,  that  although  his  delineations 
are  drawn  always  in  a  merely  histrionic  spirit,  yet  they  are  so  faith- 
ful a  portraiture  of  the  times,  places  and  people  to  whom  they  appl}', 
that  even  at  this  day,  and  among  the  most  scholarly  people,  they 
are  accepted  as  veritable  history.  There  is  little  doubt,  however, 
but  that  the  paucity  of  books  at  the  day  in  which  he  wrote  rend- 
ered the  drama  a  means  not  only  of  amusement  but  also  a  source 
of  knowledge  to  the  play-goers ;  and  hence  the  incentive  for  keep- 
ing to  the  real  as  much  as  possible  in  the  cultivation  of  theatric 
art.  In  the  present  age  the  morning  paper  is  our  educator,  and 
something  onl}^  to  please  is  brought  upon  the  stage.  Fiction  of 
the  purest  type  is  now  the  fashion. 

The  good  but  imbecile  king,  Henry  the  Sixth,  whose  reign  was 
practically  ended  at  the  battle  of  Tewkesbury,  and  who,  after  a 
rigorous  confinement  in  the  Tower  at  London  was  supposed  by 
historians  to  have  been  murdered  by  the  usurping  Richard  the 
"  hunchback," — the  same  monster  in  partial  human  form  who  is 
made  to  commit  the  deed,  with  his  own  hand,  by  the  dramatist, — 
had  the  history  of  his  own  entrance  into  the  world  given  to  him,  by 
the  imprisoned  monarch,  at  the  time  when  he  went  into  the  prison- 
cell  to  murder  him. 

The  good  king  knowing  full  well  his  bloody  intent,  and  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  asking  mercy  at  his  relentless  hands,  makes  good 
use  of  his  few  remaining  moments  to  paint  the  monster,  to  his  own 
face,  in  all  his  hideousness.  He  says:  "  The  owl  shriek'd  at  thy 
birth,  an  evil  sign:  the  night-crow  cried,  a  boding  luckless  tune  ; 
dogs  howled,  and  hideous  tempests  shook  down  trees :  the  raven 
rook'd  her  on  the  chimney's  top,  and  chattering  pies  in  dismal 
discord  sung.  Thy  mother  felt  more  than  a  mother's  pain,  and  yet 
brought  forth  less  than  a  mother's  hope ;  to-wit, — an  indigest,  de- 
formed lump,  not  like  the  fruit  of  such  a  goodly  tree.  Teeth  hadst 
thou  in  thy  head,  when  thou  wast  born,  to  signify  thou  com'st  to 
bite  the  world:  and  if  the  rest  be  true  which  I  have  heard,  tliou 
com'st  to — " 

Here  Richard  stabs  him  ;  but  after  he  has  committed  the  bloody 
tragedy,  he  concludes  the  history  himself : — "I  have  often  heard 
my  mother  say,  I  came  into  the  world  with  my  legs  forward.  Had 
I  not  reason,  think  you,  to  make  haste  and  seek  their  ruin  that 
usurped  our  right?  The  midwife  wonder'd  ;  and  the  women  cried, 
'  Jesus,  bless  us!  he  is  born  with  teeth  ; '  and  so  I  was." 


OBSTETRICS.  43 

We  note  in  the  foregoing  description  of  the  parturient  stage  in 
•woman  tlie  same  wonderful  accuracy  of  detail  in  which  our  author 
is  usually  so  fertile.  Did  he  learn  all  this  from  his  own  observa- 
tion, or  was  this  wonderful  tact  in  looking  into  human  character 
inherent?  I  have  thought  it  must  be  that  he  kneio  intuitively — that 
A  man  in  an  ordinar}'  lifetime,  no  difference  how  profoundly  ob- 
servant powers  might  be  developed  in  him,  nor  how  favorable  his 
opportunities  for  observation,  could  never  have  learned  so  much  of 
human  nature  as  is  evinced  in  his  writings. 

See  how  he  names  the  leading  facts  connected  with  labor.  First 
he  makes  it  occur  in  the  night — making  it  coincide  in  this  particular 
with  the  common  time  of  its  occurring ;  then  he  makes  the  night 
one  of  the  dismal  kind, — thus  placing  it  in  close  relation  perhaps 
to  fact.  Night  seems  actually  to  be  the  time  in  which  most  labors 
happen,  and  bad  nights  are  the  ones  most  likely  to  be  chosen 
b}' — what?  for  the  occurrence  of  the  labor.  I  was  going  to  say 
•chosen  by  the  mother,  but  then  accuracy  of  expression  forbade  my 
doing  so,  because  the  poor  mother  has  no  choice  in  the  matter.  I 
was  then  going  to  say  the  babe  chose  the  time  at  which  to  come  into 
the  outer  world,  but  here  again  I  am  checked  in  reckless  assertion, 
and  made  to  acknowledge  humbly  that  no  one  knows  why  nights — 
nights  in  which  hideous  tempests  shake  down  trees — are  the  most 
seemly  for  such  occasions,  in  the  view  of  that  nameless  cause  which 
man  knows  not  of. 

We  can  see  the  profound  superstition  of  the  age  holding  place 
even  in  the  mind  of  Shakespeare  himself,  in  his  allusions  to  the 
hooting  of  the  owl,  the  boding  luckless  tune  of  the  night-crow,  the 
howling  of  the  sleepless  dog,  the  croak  of  the  raven  and  the  chat- 
tering of  the  pies.  Who  among  us,  even  now,  are  entirely  free 
from  a  small  degree  of  the  same.?  Then  again,  the  assertion  that 
Richard  came  into  the  world  with  teeth  would  no  doubt  in  that  age 
have  excited  wonder  and  been  grounds  for  forebodings  of  good  or 
of  evil  for  the  possessor,  just  as  the  whim  of  the  nurses  might  have 
dictated.  This  departure  from  the  ordinary  law  of  development  is 
not  often  observed  even  among  professional  midwives  and  obste- 
tricians of  large  practice,  altliough  it  has  been  many  times  noticed. 
Why  it  does  not  happen  oftener  is  a  matter  for  wonder,  as  of  all 
the  histological  elements  which  go  to  make  up  the  human  body 
teeth  are  found  to  be  oftener  generated  in  error  than  any  other 
tissue,  and  this  alwavs  during  intra-uterine  life.      This  curious  fact 


44  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

is,  however,  oftener  observed  to  happen  in  females, — the  favorite 
situation  for  their  development  being  the  ovary.  As  many  as  three 
hundred  fully  developed  teeth  have  been  found  in  a  single  ovary. 
They  are  however  also  noticed  in  tumors  of  the  male — more  par- 
ticularly, I  believe,  as  connected  with  the  testes. , 

Deviations  from  normal  development  occurring  previous  to  the 
termination  of  fa^tal  existence  are  embraced  under  the  scientific 
name  (cyphosis)  Teratology, — the  signification  of  which  is  "  mon- 
ster:"— an  "  indigest  deformed  lump"  is  what  our  author  well 
names  it  in  the  case  of  Richard.  The  causes  of  these  lacks  of 
proper  development  are  susceptible  of  being  viewed  from  two 
stand-points — -the  one  pertaining  to  the  parents,  the  other  to  the 
foetus  itself.  In  regard  to  the  first,  it  is  believed  that  the  germ 
furnished  by  either  or  by  both  parents  may  be  diseased  or  defective 
in  form  or  composition,  and  thus  b}^  transmission  we  will  have  lack 
of  a  perfect  offspring.  Or,  then,  the  impression  may  be  made  on 
the  plastic  tissues  of  a  healthy  foetus  while  in  utero  by  various 
causes  operating  on  it,  such  causes  being  themselves  contained  in 
the  womb  also  in  some  instances,  and  thus  acting  directly  upon  the 
offspring ;  w^hile  another  class  of  causes  may  be  found  to  be  extra 
uterine,  but  yet  having  their  seat  in  the  pelvic  cavity, — or  yet  again 
they  may  reside  outside  of  the  mother's  body,  but  produce,  when 
brought  into  activity,  like  results.  Of  the  first  of  these  we  can 
know  but  little.  They  may  pertain  to  an  undue  proximity  of 
some  point  in  the  developing  tissue  of  the  child  with  some  point 
— as  of  a  uterine  tumor,  for  example,  or  a  pelvic  exostosis — in  the 
mother.  A  nodule  in  the  placental  tissue,  or  a  knotted  umbil- 
ical cord  may  lie  so  in  contact  with  the  soft  tissues  during  foetal 
development  as  by  its  pressure  to  cause  a  failure  of  organization 
at  a  given  point.  Of  course  these  are  but  hypotheses, — because, 
as  I  said  above,  etiological  factors  belonging  to  this  category  are 
very  obscure. 

These  causes  may  operate  upon  one  or  more  points  of  the  foetus 
at  the  same  time,  thus  producing  one  or  more  species  of  malforma- 
tion in  the  same  person.  The  law  whicli  seems  to  be  always  fol- 
lowed in  Teratology  may  be  formulated  somewhat  intelligibly  in 
the  following  manner: 

1st,  Dissimilar  parts  of  the  body  never  become  united, — as  a 
union  V)etwecn  an  arm  and  afoot;  nor  is  a  hand  ever  found  attached 
to  a   leg.     It    is   only  parts   which    are  developed  from  the   same 


OBST  ETHICS.  45 

isolated  mass  or  "  germinal  spot,"  if  wc  may  so  term  it,  wbich 
become  thus  united. 

2d.  Malfornietl  parts  are  restricted  to  tlieir  proper  place  on  or  in 
the  bod}'. 

3d.  No  malformed  organ  ever  loses  entirely  its  own  character ; 
that  is,  Nome  of  its  form,  structure  or  function  will  remain,  no 
difference  how  great  the  deformity.  Nor  will  a  deformed  animal 
lose  its  generic  distinction.  The  dog  in  the  process  of  development 
may  appear  with  an  abbreviated  tail,  yet  he  is  a  dog  all  the  same. 

4th.  Double  deformities  are  always  of  the  same  sex.  No  men- 
tion is  made  by  any  observer  worthy  of  credence  wherein  the  male 
and  female  have  been  found  united  in  the  same  or  a  similar  manner 
as  were  the  Siamese  Twins. 

The  second  class  of  causes  which  produce  malformations  of  the 
foetus,  or  arrest  of  its  complete  development,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
numerous  class  of  external  agencies  which  may  operate  through, 
of  course,  the  medium  of  the  mother's  tissues.  These  would  in- 
clude mainly  agencies  of  a  mechanical  nature,  and  are,  therefore, 
so  numerous  and  so  diversified  in  kind  that  it  would  be  superfluous 
to  enumerate  them  here. 

It  would  appear  to  one  who  gives  thought  to  the  subject,  and 
analyzes  closelj'  the  mental  traits  given  to  Richard  by  Shakespeare, 
that  they  belong  more  to  that  class  of  hunchbacks  the  deformity  in 
whom  occurs  at  a  post  natal  period,- — those  who  are  congenitally  de- 
crepit usually  lacking  in  their  mental  make-up  the  witticisms  which 
render  the  others  so  companionable,  and  the  sarcasm  which  is  in 
them  such  a  prominent  characteristic.  In  the  latter,  also,  what 
they  lack  in  physical  powers  to  render  pugnacity  successful  they 
find  supplied  to  them  in  the  sting  at  the  point  of  the  tongue. 

We  find  two  causes  operating  to  render  the  labor  of  Richard's 
mother  severe,  and  to  cause  the  woman  who  brought  him  forth 
to  feel  "  more  than  a  mother's  pains."  These  were  the  deform- 
ity and  the  presentation  of  the  feet,  either  of  which  was  sufficient 
doubtless  to  produce  more  pain  than  in  a  normal  labor ;  while 
both,  occurring  at  once,  would  complicate  the  case  yet  more.  Of 
course,  in  a  case  of  presentation  of  the  feet  the  preparatory  stage 
of  the  labor  is  much  prolonged,  from  the  lack  of  the  steady,  even 
pressure  of  the  head ;  and  the  pain  and  suffering  are  augmented 
accordingly.  Many  women  also  suffer  much  from  an  impossibility 
to  speedily  deliver   the  head.      The    accuracy  of   the  observation 


46  SHAKESPEAKE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

then,   as  applied  to  these  two  points,  in  our  author's  description^ 
mainly  defy  the  criticism  of  even  the  present  era. 

But  the  foregoing  description  of  the  mental  and  physical  com- 
ponents of  Richard  the  Third  is  not  by  smy  means  given  in  full,  and 
consequently  all  that  may  be  written  upon  them  cannot  be  deduced 
from  a  text  so  incomplete.  The  full  description  of  his  make-up, 
and  the  construction  which  he  himself  places  upon  the  anomaly, 
will  be  found  under  the  heading  "  Miscellaneous  "  in  the  last  chap- 
ter of  this  volume.  Apology  may  here  also  be  mentioned  for  the 
apparent  repetition  therewith  associated,  but  it  is  considered  better 
to  hazard  the  risk  of  criticism  in  that  direction  than  that  for  ambig- 
uity. 

In  the  next  quotation  we  find  some  seeming  contradictions  to 
declarations  given  above — a  fault  seldom  observed  in  Shakespeare's 
writings. 

Of  a  piece  with  the  description  of  the  birth-night  of  Richard  is 
that  of  the  fearful  tumult  on  the  night  of  the  murder  of  Duncan, 
and  that  of  the  night  before  the  assassination  of  C»sar,  as  wit- 
nessed by  Casca.  This  same  distorted  cut-throat,  Richard,  on 
another  occasion,  whilst  imprecating  Nature  for  not  bestowing  upon 
him  fairer  fashion,  declares  he  came  into  this  breathing  world  be- 
fore his  time  and  only  half  "made-up;"  whilst  Margaret,  the 
widow  of  the  murdered  king,  tells  what  she  knew  of  the  miserable 
wretch   in  these  words : 

"Thou  elvish-marked,  abortive,  rooting  hog!  thou  that  wast 
seal'd  in  thy  nativity  the  strain  of  nature,  and  the  scorn  of  hell! 
thou  slander  of  thy  mother's  womb!  thou  loathed  issue  of  thy 
father's  loins!  " 

It  is  not  probable  that  his  "half  make-up"  was  because  of  his 
having  "  come  before  his  time  into  this  breathing  world,"  because 
premature  children  have  imperfectly  developed  appendages,  as  the 
nails,  etc.,  and  would  therefore  not  be  likely  to  possess  teeth,  as  it 
is  asserted  that  this  boy  had,  at  birth ;  nor  is  it  likely  that  the  term 
"  abortive"  used  by  Margaret  had  reference  to  untimely  birth,  but 
only  to  lack  of  physical  development. 

The  same  Richard  in  an  effort  to  enlist  the  populace  in  his  favor 
and  against  his  own   brother,  thus  impeaches  his  mother's   virtue: 

(To  one  of  his  adherents.)  "Tell  them   that  when  my  mother   went 
with  child  of  this  insatiate  Edward,  Noble  York,  my  princely  father. 


OBSTETRICS.  47 

then  had  wars  in  France;  and  l\y  true  computation  of  the  time, 
lound  that  the  issue  was  not  his  begot.  " 

It  could  with  some  plausibility  be  argued  that  the  physical  de- 
formity of  Richard  was  an  inheritance  from  his  parentage  in  the 
manner  first  discussed — namely,  in  the  form  of  aljnormal  germ-life 
as  the  gift  of  one  or  the  other  of  his  parents,  or  of  both  the  father 
and  the  mother.  It  is  seen  in  the  quotation  above  that  he  openly 
declares  the  lack  of  virtue  in  his  mother,  and  it  may  thus  have 
liappened  that  it  was  some  constitutional  or  sexual  malady  in  her 
that  retarded  or  arrested  the  development  of  the  "hunch-back" 
while  in  utero. 

On  another  occasion,  where  he  wished  to  marry  his  own  niece  to 
assist  him  in  his  designs  upon  the  crown,  he  uses  the  following  argu- 
ment to  the  girl's  mother: 

"  If  I  did  take  the  kingdom  from  your  son,  to  make  amends, 
I'll  give  it  to  your  daughter ;  If  I  have  killed  the  issue  of  your 
womb,  (he  had  killed  his  two  young  nephews)  to  quicken  your  in- 
crease, I  will  beget  mine  issue  of  j'Our  blood  upon  your  daughter. 
A  grandam's  name  is  little  less  in  love  than  is  the  doting  title  of  a 
mother:  They  are  as  children,  but  one  step  below,  even  of  your 
mettle,  of  your  very  blood ;  of  all  one  pain  save  for  a  night  of 
groans  endured  of  her  for  whom  you  did  like  sorrow.  " 

Shakespeare  denominated  it  a  '•  night  of  groans  "  from  the  mouth 
of  "  Dick  the  Third,  "  while  in  the  tongue  of  our  Native  America  it 
is  often  designated  by  the  laconic  term  a  "  grunting.  "  This  is  one 
of  the  popular  terms  used  for  labor  among  the  good  old  country 
women  of  Missouri,  and  is  about  as  significant  an  appellation  as  any  in 
use.  This  appellation  is  also  applied  to  labor  by  Hamlet  in  his 
somewhat  broad  conversation  with  Ophelia  as  is  noted  in  the  last 
paragraph  of  this  chapter. 

To  this  individual,  Richard  the  Third,  we  can  well  apply  the 
truism,  that  men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass,  whilst  their  virtues 
are  written  in  water, 

Henry  the  Eighth  furnishes  us  a  few  lines  on  the  su])ject  of  pro- 
creation. 

A  gentleman  of  the  court  in  speaking  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
people  did  reverence  to  Anne  Boleyn  (Anne  Bullen  in  the  drama), 
the  second  wife  of  Henry,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  thus  illus- 
trated the  matter :     (To  a  friend.  J     "Believe  me,  Sir.     She  is  the 


48  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

goodliest  woman  that  ever  lay  by  man  ;  which  when  the  people  had 
the  full  view  of,  such  a  noise  arose  as  the  shrouds  make  at  sea  in 
a  stiff  tempest,  as  loud,  and  to  as  many  tunes:  hats,  cloaks, 
(doublets,  I  think)  flew  up  ;  and  had  their  faces  been  loose  this  day 
they  had  been  lost,  such  joy  I  never  saw  before.  Great-bellied 
women  that  had  not  half  a  week  to  go,  like  rams  in  the  old  time  of 
war,  would  shake  the  press,  and  make  them  reel  before  them." 

After  this  marriage,  in  due  time  it  is  announced,  "The  queen's  in 
labor;  they  say,  in  great  extremity,  and  feared  she'll  with  the  labor 
end.  " 

This  was  a  conversation  between  two  courtiers,  and  was  follow'd 
at  another  place  by  a  talk  between  the  King  and  an  attendant  on  the 
same  subject: 

King.     "Now,  Lovell,  from  the  queen  what  is  the  news? 

LoveU.  I  could  not  personally  deliver  to  her  what  you  com- 
manded me,  but  by  her  women  I  sent  your  message  ;  who  return'd 
her  thanks  in  the  greatest  humbleness,  and  desir'd  your  highness 
most  heartily  to  pray  for  her. 

King.  What  say'st  thou?  ha!  to  pray  for  her?  what!  is  she  cry- 
ing out? 

Lovell.  So  said  her  woman  ;  and  that  her  sufferance  made  almost 
each  pang  ar  death. 

King.     Alas,  good  lady  ! 

Suffolk.  God  safely  quit  her  of  her  burden,  and  with  gentle 
travail,  to  the  gladding  of  your  highness  with  an  heir! 

King.  'Tis  midnight,  Charles ;  pr'y  thee  to  bed ;  and  in  thy 
prayers  remember  my  poor  queen.  Leave  me  alone,  for  I  must 
think  of  that  which  company  would  not  be  friendly  to. 

Suffolk.  I  wish  your  highness  a  quiet  night ;  and  my  good  mis- 
tress will  remember  in  my  prayers." 

The  queen's  labor  progressed  in  the  meantime,  and  an  old  lady 
enters  the  king's  apartment  in  haste. 

Gentleman.     (To  the  old  lady.)  "  Come  back  ;  what  mean  you? 

Old  Lady.  I'll  not  comeback  ;  the  tidings  that  1  bring  will  make  my 
boldness  manners. — Now,  good  angels,  fly  o'er  the  royal  head,  and 
shade  thy  person  under  their  blessed  wings ! 


OBSTETRICS. 


49 


\  : 


"Now,  by  thy  looks,  I  guess  thy  message." 

Kinrj.  Now,  by  the  looks,  I  guess  tliy  message ;  is  the  queen 
deliver'd?     Saj'^,  ay  ;  and  of  a  bo}^ 

Old  Lady.  Ay,  ay,  my  liege  ;  and  of  a  lovely  bo.y :  The  God  of 
heaven  now  and  ever  bless  her.  'Tis  a  girl,  promise  boys  hereafter. 
Sir,  your  queen  desires  your  visitation,  and  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  stranger :     'Tis  as  like  you  as  cherry  is  to  cherry. 

King.  Give  her  an  hundred  marks.  I'll  to  the  queen.  (Exit 
King.) 


50 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    IMIYSICIAK. 


M 


J  ^%  # 


Old  Lady.  An  hundred  marks  !  By  this  light,  I'll  ha'  more  ;  an 
ordinary  groom  is  for  such  payment :  I  will  have  more,  or  scold  it 
out  of  him.  Said  1  for  this  the  girl  was  like  to  him?  I  will  have 
more,  or  I  will  unsay  't ;  and  now,  while  it  is  hot,  I'll  put  it  to  the 
issue.  " 

In  that  portion  of  the  quotation  relating  to  the  queen's  labor, 
the  description  is  graphic,  and  as  true  to  nature  as  had  it  been 
drawn  with  the  pen  of  a  master  in  the  science  of  obstetrics.  How 
Shakespeare  could  have  become  possessed  of  a  knowledge  so  accu- 
rate in  regard  to  scenes  and  incidents  in  the  lying-in  chamber,  is  a 
problem.  His  domestic  experiences  in  that  particular  were  hardly 
of  an  order  voluminous  enough  to  have  given  him  so  correct  an 
idea.  It  was  another  of  his  uitnltions.  How  true  to  the  life  also 
are  his  doings  of  the  old  midwife  flattering  the  old  king  and  then 
grumbling  over  the  amount  of  her  fee!  How  more  than  natural  for 
the  penurious  old  monarch  to  award  her  niggardl}^  pay-  Verily, 
humanity  i)resents  itself  in  the  same  garb  among  the  high  and  the 
low,   the  rich  and   the  poor, — among  all  nations  and  in  all  ages. 


n 


OBSTETRIC!--.  51 

A  "  Mark  "  in  English  money  equaled  about  thirteen  shillings  and 
six-pence,  which  multiplied  b}'  one  hundred  would  be  considered  a 
pretty  liberal  fee  among  modern  accoucheurs  in  ordinary  practice, 
but  perhaps  if  you  my  reader,  or  I,  had  a  royal  patron  we  might 
indulge  the  thought  that  an  '•  hundred  marks  "  for  a  case  of  obstetrics 
was  nothing  extra  in  the  way  of  remuneration  ;  and  the  king's  action 
in  the  matter  of  the  fee  was  in  strict  keeping  with  the  humanity 
which  hovers  along  the  pathway  of  the  physician  "  from  the  college 
to  the  grave. " 

In  Coriolanus  we  find  the  good  Virgilia  declining  a  pressing  in- 
vitation of  her  mother-in-law  Volumnia,  who  wished  her  to  accompany 
lier  on  a  visit  to  a  good  lady  that  "  lies  in  ;  "  and  in  "  Titus  Androni- 
cus,  "  we  have  a  goodly  display  of  procreative  knowledge  in  the 
details  of  the  relations  which  existed  betw^een  Tamora,  queen  of  the 
Goths,  and  Aaron,  her  black  paramour,  whose  "  soul  was  black  as  his 
face."  Tamora  had  been  prisoner  to  Saturninus  of  Rome,  and 
through  his  gallantr}^  he  had  married  her  and  placed  her  in  high 
estate.  Aaron,  her  black  lover,  had  been  prisoner  also,  and  it  seems 
that  their  familiarity,  which  existed  at  the  time  of  their  durance^  had 
continued  after  she  became  empress  of  Rome,  thus  laying  the 
foundation  for  the  black-a-moor  child  which  figures  in  the  quota- 
tion. 

Demetrius.  "Come,  let  us  go  and  pray  to  all  the  Gods  for  our 
beloved  mother  in  her  pains. 

Aaron.     Pray  to  the  devils  ;  the  Gods  have  given  us  over. 

Demetrius.     Why  do   the  emperor's  trumpets  flourish  thus? 

Chiron.     Belike,  for  jo}- :  the  emperor  hath  a  son. 

Demetrius.  Soft!  AVho  comes  there?  (Enter  a  nvrsp.,  irithahlacTi- 
child  in  her  arms.) 


52 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


"  Look  how  the  black  slave  smiles  upon  his  father." 

Nurse.  Good  morrow,  lords.  O !  tell  me,  did  you  see  Aaron 
the  Moor? 

Aaron.  Well,  more,  or  less,  or  ne'er  a  whit  at  all,  here  Aaron 
is ;  and  what  with  Aaron  now  ? 

Nurse.  O,  gentle  Aaron,  we  are  all  undone!  Now,  help,  or 
woe  betide  thee  ever  more ! 

Aaron.  Why,  what  a  caterwauling  dost  thou  keep  ;  what  dost 
thou  wrap  and  fumble  in  thy  arms? 

Nurse.  O,  that  which  I  would  hide  from  heaven's  eye,  our 
empress'  shame,  our  stately  Eome's  disgrace.  She  is  deliver'd, 
lords ;  she  is  deliver'd. 

Aaron.     To  whom? 

Nurse.     I  mean  she's  brought  to  bed. 

Aaron.     Well,  God  give  her  good  rest!     What  hath  he  sent  her? 

Nurse.     A  devil. 

Aaron.     Why,  then,  she's  the  devil's  dam  ;  a  joyful  issue. 

Ncrse.  A  joyless,  dismal,  black  and  sorrowful  issue.  Here  is 
the  babe, — as  loathsome  as  a  toad  amongst  the  fairest  burdens  of 
our  clime.  The  empress  sends  it  thee,  thy  stamp,  thy  seal,  and 
bids  thee  christen  it  with  thy  dagger's  point. 

Aaron.  Zounds!  ye  whore,  is  black  so  base  a  hue? — Sweet j 
blowse  fto  the  hahe)^  you  are  a  beauteous  blossom  sure. 

Demetrius.     Villain,  what  hast  thou  done? 

Aaron.     That  which  thou  canst  not  undo. 


OCSTKTIMCS.  53 

Chiron.     Thou  hast  uiuloue  our  mother. 

Aaron.     Villain,  I  have  done  thy  mother. 

Demetrius.     And  therein,  hellish  dog,  thou  hast  undone. 
Woe  to  her  chance,   and  danin'd  her  loathed  choice ! 
Accurs'd  the  offspring  of  so  foul  a  fiend! 

Chiron.     It  shall  not  live. 

Aaron.     It  shall  not  die. 

Nurse.     Aaron,  it  must:  the  mother  wills  it  so. 

Aaron.  What!  must  it,  nurse?  then  let  no  man  but  I  do  execu- 
tion on  my  tlesh  and  blood. 

Demetrius.  I'll  broach  the  tadpole  on  my  rapier's  point.  Nurse, 
give  it  me  ;  my  sword  shall  soon  dispatch  it. 

Aaron.  Sooner  this  sword  shall  plow  thy  bowels  up.  (Takes  the 
child  from  the  nurse. J  Stay,  murderous  villains!  Will  you  kill 
your  brother?  Now,  b^'  the  burning  tapers  of  the  sky,  that  shone 
so  brightlj^  when  this  boy  was  got,  he  dies  upon  my  scimitar's 
point,  that  touches  this  my  first-born  son  and  heir.  What,  what, 
3'e  sanguine,  shallow-hearted  boj's!  Ye  white-lim'd  walls!  ye  ale- 
house painted  signs !  coal-black  is  better  than  another  hue,  for  all 
the  water  in  the  ocean  can  never  turn  the  swan's  black  legs  to 
white,  although  she  lave  them  hourly  in  the  flood.  Tell  the  empress 
from  me,  I  am  a  man  to  keep  my  own  ;  excuse  it  how  she  can. 

Demetrius.  Wilt  thou  betray  thy  noble  mistress  thus?  By  this 
our  noble  mother  is  forever  shamed. 

xiaron.  (Speaking  of  the  babe.)  Look  how  the  black  slaA^e 
smiles  upon  the  father ;  he  is  your  brother,  lords, — of  that  self 
blood  that  first  gave  life  to  you,  and  from  that  womb  where  you 
imprisoned  were,  he  is  enfranchised  and  come  to  light :  he  is  your 
brother  by  the  surer  side.  Not  far  hence  lives  Muli,  my  country- 
man ;  his  wife  was  but  yesternight  brought  to  bed.  His  child  is 
like  to  her,  fair  as  you  are ;  go  pack  with  liim,  and  give  the  mother 
gold,  and  tell  them  both  the  circumstances  of  all ;  and  how  by 
this  their  child  shall  be  advanced  and  be  received  for  the  emperor's 
heir,  and  substituted  in  the  place  of  mine  to  call  in  this  tempest 
whirling  in  the  court,  and  let  the  emperor  dandle  him  for  his  son." 

Cornelia,  a  midwife,  olHciated  on  this  occasion  also,  and  according 
to  the  story  of  the  nurse  there  were  present  at  the  accouchment 
but  Cornelia,  herself  and  the  empress — the  commer^dable  custom 
being  then  in  vogue  to  not  be  over-crowded  with  female  assistants 


54  SHAKKSI'EARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAX. 

as  has  become  somewhat  the  fashion  in  our  day ;  though  the  repre- 
hensible practice  of  employing  only  women — a  midwife,  and  nurse, 
was  then  tiie  invariable  rule  it  seems,  as  Shakespeare  no  where 
introduces  a  male  accoucheur  in  any  of  his  obstetric  scenes. 

We  look  with  wonder  upon  the  picture  of  depravity  drawn  from 
life  at  the  head  of  a  Roman  court,  where  the  empress,  fair  as 
a  lily,  in  lewd  embrace  clasped  to  her  bosom  a  murderous  and 
licentious  black-man.  This  was  in  the  far-off  past,  and  yet, 
through  the  gloom  of  twenty  hundred  years,  its  horrid  details  are 
sufficient  to  till  us  with  loathing.  It  seems  that  these  high  digni- 
taries of  earth,  whose  every  walk  in  life  should  be  an  example  from 
which  the  lowly  might  draw  lessons  of  purity  and  goodness,  are  the 
very  first  to  walk  the  highways  of  vice  wherein  the  meanest  plebe- 
ian should  blush  to  be  seen.  Whilst  those  who  lead  are  blind,  we 
need  not  wonder  that  the  led  also  stumble. 

We  come  again  to  speak  of  the  nubile  age,  and  give  more  fully 
the  matter  pertaining  to  the  marriage  of  Juliet  and  Romeo.  We 
find  Capulet  making  plea  that  his  daughter  is  too  young  to  marry : 

CcqmJet.  ''My  child  is  yet  a  stranger  in  the  world ;  she  hath 
not  yet  seen  the  change  of  fourteen  years : 

Let  two  more  summers  wither  in  their  pride, 
Ere  we  may  think  her  ripe  to  be  a  bride. 

Paris.     Younger  than  she  are  happy  mothers  made. 

Capulet.     And  too  soon  marr'd  are  those  so  early  married." 

If  all  our  own  authorities  are  not  at  fault  in  observation,  this 
remark  of  Capulet' s  in  regard  to  the  pernicious  effects  of  earl3' 
marriage  is  strikingly  exemplified  in  American  women.  The  cus- 
tom has  obtained  in  this  countrj'^  for  persons  of  both  sexes  to  enter 
the  connubial  state  often  at  an  age  when  their  youth  should  pre- 
clude all  thought  of  such  a  consummation  ;  and  the  result  is  seen 
in  the  wan  faces  and  premature  decrepitude  of  a  large  majority  of 
the  child-bearing  women,  even  in  the  rural  districts  of  our  countrj'. 
The  early  and  long  continued  procreative  effort  which  results  in  a 
numerous  })rogeny.  together  with  the  toil  and  care  incident  to  the 
maintenance  of  a  large  family,  have  become  a  noticeable  fact  in 
our  domestic  life;  and  the  burdens  entailed  upon  our  females  as  a 
consequence,  may  justly  come  in  for  their  share  of  the  censure 
which  is  no\\  .(joming  inio  vogue  upon  those  who  are  endeavoring  to 
adopt  soini"  plan  for  the  limitation  of  offspring.      It  is  not  all  to  be 


OBSTKTUICS.  55 

laid  at  Iho  door  of  a  desire  for  fashionable  life,  etc. — tiiis  growing 
desire  on  the  part  of  our  females  to  limit  the  number  of  their 
children  ;  but  it  has  its  origin  in  l)urdens  too  grievous  to  be  quietly 
borne. — Hence  the  growing  sentiment  which  seeks  means, — often 
illegitimate  it  may  be,  to  rid  them  of  an  evil  they  know  not  how 
else  to  avoid. 

The  custom  of  early  marriage,  and  the  rearing  of  a  numerous 
progeny,  as  applied  specially  to  the  American  people,  is  the  result 
of  )Hiti(nd  conditions.  Our  country  is  broad  and  new,  and  possessed 
of  resources  which  invite  youths  to  an  early  dependence  upon 
their  own  energies  for  an  independent  life,  whilst  the  spirit  of  our 
political  system,  and  the  often  crowded  and  frugal  conditions  of  the 
parental  home,  all  exercised  a  marked  influence  in  directing  the 
minds  of  our  young  men  to  early  marriage.  Theory  prompts  to  this 
course  in  life— a  course  really  the  most  inviting  and  acceptable  to 
a  large  portion  of  American  youths,  whilst  the  practical  working 
of  the  s^'^stem  has  shown  it  to  l)e  fraught  with  evils  which  have  not 
been  taken  into  the  count — that  of  an  unusual  decadence  of  the 
physical,  moral  and  social  life  of  these  young  parents,  and  in 
a  measure  that  of  their  offspring  also.  I  emphasize  the  word 
moral,  for  it  is  asserted  by  a  majority  of  our  best  men  and  women, 
that  in  seeking  a  refuge  from  the  burdens  of  a  large  family,  our 
females  are  not  only  deteriorating  physically  but  also  morally, 
in  the  effort.  Mental  degeneracy  might  also  be  added  to  the 
catalogue. 

"Whilst  it  is  believed  that  all  the  evils  herein  named  do  exist  to  a 
greater  or  less  extent  among  our  people,  I  am  far  from  conceding 
that  they  exist  to  an  extent  sufficient  to  cause  any  alarm  even  among 
that  class  of  maudlin  philosophers  who  make  social  science  a 
specialty ;  therefore,  I  can  calmly  recommend  to  those  who  feel 
seriously  upon  the  subject,  to  possess  their  souls  in  peace,  as  there 
is  little  danger  at  present  that  the  Yankee  race  will  dwindle  to 
exhaustion  from  excesses  in  the  effort  of  procreation ;  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  pass  from  the  stage  of  living  nations  in  an  unholy  con- 
flict with  non-propagation.     We  have  yet  ample  elbow-room. 

The  practice,  yet  common  among  nursing  women,  of  applying 
aloes  or  some  other  bitter  or  nauseous  material  to  the  nipple  to  pre- 
vent the  babe  from  taking  it  at  the  time  of  weaning,  finds  a  prece- 
dent in  the  case  of  the  nurse  who  was  so  closely  identifled  with 
Juliet's  existence : 


y^ 


56  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Nurse.  "  On  Lammas-eve  shall  she  be  fourteen:  that  shall  she: 
I  remember  it  well.  'Tis  since  the  earthquake  now  eleven  years  ; 
and  she  was  wean'd, — I  never  shall  forget  it, — of  all  the  year,  upon 
that  day  ;  for  1  had  then  laid  wormwood  to  my  dug,  setting  in  the 
sun  under  the  dove-house  wall :  You  and  my  lord  were  then  at 
Mantua.  Nay,  I  do  bear  a  brain: — but,  as  I  said,  when  it  did  taste 
the  wormwood  on  the  nipple  of  my  dug,  and  felt  it  bitter,  pretty 
fool,  to  see  it  tetch}',  and  fall  out  with  the  dug!  Shake,  quoth  the 
dove-house  ;   'twas  no  need,  I  trow,  to  bid  me  trudge." 

How  true  to  the  life  is  this  picture  of  a  garrulous  nurse,  and  how 
true  to  the  welfare  of  the  human  family  is  the  principle  herein  laid 
down  by  her,  as  to  the  period  during  which  a  child  should  be  nursed. 
The  data  goes  to  show  that  Juliet  was  nearly  three  years  old  at  time 
of  weaning,  thus  making  it  apparent  that  the  murderous  habit  of 
depriving  the  babe  of  its  natural  aliment  at  an  earlier  age  was  not  in 
vogue  at  that  date,  even  among  the  fashionable  and  aristocratic. 

The  ability  to  discriminate  between  the  true  and  the  false  is  no 
where  in  the  writings  of  the  dramatist  more  forcibly  exhibited  than 
in  the  few  thoughts  attributed  to  this  nurse,  and  the  bearing  pos- 
sessed by  the  nursing  period  upon  the  weal  or  the  woe  of  mankind. 
This  can  in  no  way  be  better  here  exhibited  than  in  the  quotation 
presented  below:  {Obstetric  Gazette^  Vol.  1,  No.  2;  The  Mammary 
Gland.     By  J.  P.  Chesney,  M.  D.) 

"To  show  the  wisdom  of  a  lengthened  lactiferous  period,  it  is  pro- 
posed to  speak  speculatively  of  the  female  breast,  and  its  relations  to 
the  well  being  of  the  mother  and  her  offspring. 

We  shall  first  notice  it  in  its  relations  to  the  child.  The  milk  of 
the  human  female  in  its  composition  fills  more  nearly  the  require- 
ments for  tissue  building  than  any  other  substance  with  which  it  is 
possible  to  supply  the  young  child.  Its  tissues  require  for  their 
development  not  the  substantial  elements  which  give  firmness  and 
solidity  to  its  structures,  but  those  which  impart  to  them  flexibility, 
plasticity  and  a  capacity  for  expansion  and  growth.  I  hold  it  to  be 
a  fundamental  proposition  that  no  child  was  ever  properly  nursed, 
and  I  may  add  properly  nourished,  who  did  not  draw  the  pabulum 
for  its  first  two  years  sustenance  from  the  breast  of  her  who  con- 
ceived and  brought  it  into  existence.  Nature  does  not  afford  nor 
can  art  supply  any  substitute  for  this  food.  Supply  the  infant  with 
the  most  perfect  wet  nurse  possible,  and  you  will  find  there  is  some 
incompatibility   between    her   organization   and  that  of  the   infant 


OBSTETRICS.  57 

of  another, — some  incomprehensible  idiosj-ncrasy  which  forever 
prev^ents  a  perfect  reciprocity  between  them.  She  is  not  its  mother. 
Jt  is  not  her  child. 

Children  who  battle  with  inanition  from  lack  of  the  mother's  milk, 
are  of  two  classes.     Those  who  starve  and  those  who  half  starve. 

The  first  emanate  from  the  abodes  of  luxury  on  the  one  hand  and 
from  the  perlieus  of  wretchedness  on  the  other;  the  one  goes  into 
the  hands  of  the  wet  nurse  for  a  few  weeks  and  then  to  a  little  gilded 
tomb;  the  other  is  "farmed  out"  and  in  the  same  few  weeks  its 
emaciated  little  form  is  put  silently  away.  This  occurs  in  large 
cities  where  the  extremes  of  society  meet  face  to  face.  We  in  the 
country  seldom  see  it. 

AVith  the  second  of  the  classes,  the  half  starved,  we  are  somewhat 
more  familiar.  These  children  are  the  offspring  of  all  grades  of 
society,  and  are  to  be  seen  in  every  community.  These  are  the  vic- 
tims of  earl}'  weaning.  This  class  is  more  numerous  than  the  other, 
and  therefore  furnishes  the  man  who  carries  the  hour-glass  and 
scythe  his  most  abundant  harvest.  Those  who  die  at  the  behest  of 
fashion  and  of  remorseless  poverty,  die  a  little  earlier ;  the  others, 
not  quite  so  soon,  but  equally  as  sure,  from  devotion  to  "  custom." 

Between  those  mothers  who  do  not  nurse  at  all  and  those  who  do 
not  nurse  enough  must  be  divided  the  responsibility  of  our  great 
infantile  mortality.  Half  of  mankind  dies  before  the  second  den- 
tition. Let  every  mother,  from  the  humblest  up  to  the  wife  of 
the  President,  nurse  her  own  babe  ;  her  milk  is  its  life.  Let  the 
practice  tall}^  with  the  theory  that  what  we  are  we  suck  from  our 
mother's  breasts,  and  we  shall  regenerate  a  nation. 

As  will  appear  by  the  foregoing,  it  is  my  firm  conviction  that  our 
teachings  and  the  practice  built  upon  them  relative  to  the  proper 
time  at  which  to  wean  the  infant  are  fundamentally  erroneous.  The 
commencement  of,  or  a  reasonable  progress  in  the  first  dentition  is 
claimed  by  respectable  authors,  and  agreed  to  by  most  mothers  and 
nurses  as  a  safe  guide  in  weaning  the  babe.  This  takes  the  babe 
from  the  breast  at  ten  or  twelve  months  of  age. 

The  first  dentition  I  certainly  think  is  such  a  guide,  but  its  lan- 
guage must  not  be  misinterpreted.  It  does  not  necessaril}^  follow 
that  because  an  infant  in  utero  has  a  stomach  it  must  therefore 
receive  food,  that  because  it  has  eyes  it  must  then  see.  Nor  is  it 
essential  that  because  a  child  is  born  with  legs  it  must  be  immedi- 
ately placed  upon  them  and  made  to  walk.     Infants  may  have  teeth 


•58  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

at  the  age  of  twelve  or  fifteen  months,  but  even  then  they  are  only 
few  and  rudimentary,  and  wholly  unfit  for  organs  of  mastication. 
The  end  of  twenty-fourth  or  thirtieth  month  completes  the  deciduous 
•dentition,  and  not  an  hour  before  the  first  of  these  dates  can  a  child 
be  legitimately  weaned. 

In  reference  to  the  influence  exerted  b}^  the  lacteal  functions  upon 
the  well-being  of  the  mother,  we  may  notice  it  in  its  bearings  upon 
"her  morall}'',  mentally  and  phj^sically.  There  seems  to  be  Uttle 
•doubt  but  that  the  peculiar  mode  of  thought  which  induces  a  healthy 
mother  to  abandon  to  another  the  sacred  duty  of  nursing  her  child, 
has  its  culmination,  in  many  instances,  in  a  loss  of  interest  in  her 
family,  and  a  plunge  headlong  into  idleness,  extravagance,  licen- 
tiousness, shame,  disease  and  death. 

The  babe  at  its  mother's  breast  is  the  golden  chain  which  binds 
happiness  and  virtue  to  the  hearth-stone,  and  the  woman  who  ignores 
its  dictates  is  unfit  for  wife  or  mother.  She  who  does  not  nurse  her 
■own  infant,  and  she  who  is  constantly  in  the  hands  of  the  abortion- 
ist, are  twin  sisters,  and  their  works  stand  side  by  side  as  monu- 
ments of  depravity. 

It  is,  however,  more  within  the  province  of  the  physician  to  view 
the  mental  and  physical  ills  which  befall  the  woman  from  a  quiescent 
state  of  the  mammary  glands. 

When  we  call  to  mind  the  close  relations  which  exist  between  the 
mammary  glands  and  tlie  reproductive  organs  proper, — remember 
that  it  is  through  the  impressibility  of  the  nervous  S3"stem  alone  that 
this  relation  is  maintained,  we  need  feel  no  surprise  when  we  some- 
times find  these  cliains  of  communication  themselves  becoming  the 
seat  of  morbid  action  ;  and  while  any  tissue  or  organ  may  perchance 
become  the  focus  of  disease  in  this  way,  yet  it  is  to  the  brain  and 
nervous  system  where  we  may  look  with  most  certainty  of  recogniz- 
ing its  manifestations.  Disturb  the  harmonious  action  of  reproduc- 
tive life,  and  neuralgia,  hysteria,  catalepsy,  chorea,  epilepsj^,  and  the 
various  forms  of  insanity  arise  to  tax  our  professional  acumen.  The 
mainmaiy  glands  are  really  annexie  of  the  female  generative  organs  ; 
their  sym[)athies  arc  therefore  so  closely  interwoven,  that  a  disturb- 
ance of  the  functions  of  the  one  cannot  fail  to  leave  an  impression 
on  the  other.  It  is  not  my  purpose,  however,  to  speak  of  the  path- 
ological conditions  of  the  breast  and  the  disturbances  thence  reflect- 
ed, but  m}'-  thought  is  simply  to  note  the  pathological  concomitants 
of  a  forced  or  voluntary  suppression  of  the  lacteal  function.  And 
first  as  to  the  menstrual  function. 


OBSTETRICS. 


59 


The  two  oliit'cs  are  so  closel}'  allied  that  the  one  may  almost  per- 
fectly supply  to  the  woman  the  place  of  the  other.  Women  Tv^hose 
maternal  instincts  persuade  them  to  let  their  babes  tug  at  the  breast 
eighteen,  twenty  or  twenty-four  montlis — "  lets  them  stand  on  the 
floor  and  suek,"  to  use  the  saying  of  a  wise  friend  of  my  own — are 


nearly  always  doing  a  wise  thing  iinwittingl}',  both  for  themselves 
and  their  offspring.  Wise  for  themselves,  because  the  lengthened 
period  of  lactation  gives  to  the  womb  and  its  proper  annexe  a  peri- 
od of  rest  indispensable  to  the  proper  performance  of  their  func- 
tions. Of  the  thirty  years  of  procreative  life  in  the  human  female, 
not  more  than  ten  ought  to  be  devoted  to  fruitful  ovulation. 

The  life  of  our  women  is  spent  between  hemorrhage  and  gestation  ; 
their  existence  is  but  a  succession  of  bleedings  and  pregnancies. 

Woman  was  fashioned  by  her  author  to  produce  and  SMcA'Ze  chil- 
dren. The  gestative  period  is  placed  almost  specificallj'^  at  nine 
months ;  to  this  add  the  nursing  period,  which  is  placed  with  almost 
the  same  precision  l)y  nature  at  two  years,  and  we  have  a  period  of  near-* 
I}'  three  years  in  which  the  menstrual  function  of  most  women  will 
remain  passive.  This  will  give  eight  or  ten  normal  pregnancies  during 
the  child  bearing  period, — a  number  which  very  closely  coincides  with 


60  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

our  observations  as  connected  with  our  mostliealtliy  and  prosperous 
rural  families. — Families  who  do  not  know  the  definition  of  "  wet 
nurse,"   "neuralgia,"  and  "abortion." 

I  assume  in  this  paper  what  I  believe  to  be  true,  namely,  that  if 
from  the  first  the  mothers  nurse  their  babes  the  full  length  of  time 
as  pointed  out  by  nature  as  necessary,  they  will  not  be  likely  to 
menstruate  at  seven,  ten  or  thirteen  months  after  labor.  Work  the 
lacteal  glands  normally  and  the  womb  is  not  forced  into  premature 
activity.  Let  every  mother  whose  general  health  will  allow  her, 
nurse  her  babe  twenty-two,  twenty-four  or  thirty  months,  in  place 
of  the  eight,  ten  or  twelve,  as  is  now  the  custom,  and  we  shall  hear 
much  less  of  menorrhagia,  leucorrhoBa,  sub-involution,  procidentia 
and  the  other  ten  thousand  ills  to  which  she  is  now  a  prey. 

And  so,  in  like  manner,  we  may  often  trace  a  clear  connection 
between  the  uterine  congestions  consequent  upon  a  repeated  ovular 
nisus,  and  the  many  inflammatory  conditions  which  beset  the  womb  ; 
I  am  impressed  with  the  belief  that  to  this  cause  can  be  traced  most 
of  the  ulcerations,  erosions,  endometritis,  cellulitis,  pelvic  abscesses, 
etc.,  to  which  our  notice  is  so  frequently  called.  We  must  give  the 
womb  and  ovaries  ample  rest  if  we  will  have  them  do  their  work 
well. 

I  use  the  term  "ovulation"  to  imply  the  irruption  of  matured 
"germ  cells,"  meaning  of  course  to  exclude  all  of  that  vast  crop 
which  aborts  during  the  periods  of  lactation  and  pregnancy.  The 
fact  is  remarked  by  all  medical  authorities  that  it  is  at  the  close  of 
menstrual  life  in  married  women  that  malignant  maladies  are  most 
likely  to  assail  them  ;  more  particularly  their  generative  system. 
Cancers  of  the  ovaries,  womb  and  breasts  are  likely  to  occur,  while 
with  matured  females  who  have  never  given  milk  at  all,  the  same 
maladies  occur  earlier,  in  a  greater  proportion  of  such  women,  and 
are  none  the  less  surely  and  speedily  fata!.  In  this  latter  class 
particularly  is  it  that  a  crop  of  fibroids  is  likely  to  be  developed  to 
the  full.  The  uterus  in  its  effort  to  do  its  office  of  reproduction, — 
never  having  received  and  been  rendered  satisfied  by  the  normal 
stimulation  of  impregnation,  makes  a  futile  attempt  to  do  its  nat- 
ural function  without  assistance,  and  the  effort  results  in  an  abor- 
tion— a  failure — or  what  is  infinitely  worse,  the  production  of  a  crop 
of  parasites,  which  sap  the  foundations  of  life  and  hurry  the  woman 
to  an  earlier  grave. 

Without  a  healthy   parentage   we   cannot  hope  for  a  normal  con- 


f)BSTKTRICS.  Gl 

ception,  a  healthy  gestation  or  a  robust  progeny.  The  early  cessa- 
tion of  the  lacteal  function  whether  froni  design  or  accident  I  believe 
forms  no  small  factor  in  the  production  of  abortions.  I  think  we  need 
not  invoke  that  ver}^  unsatisfactory  explanation,  the  "abortive  habit," 
to  meet  the  difliculty.  The  compensatory  balance  which  should 
exist  between  the  generative  and  lacteal  organs  is  disturbed  by  the 
lack  of  mammar}'  activity;  and,  to  fufill  a  law  of  the  economy,  the 
procreative  centers  are  called  into  play,  "  come  to  the  rescue,"  it 
may  be — at  a  time  when  they  are  not  recuperated  sufficiently,  from 
recent  gestation,  to  admit  of  tlie  nutrition  proper  for  a  normal  ovum. 
The  force  is  equal  to  the  germination  of  the  seed,  but  insxifficieyit  to 
carry  it  to  maturity. 

As  to  the  effects  of  lactation  upon  rep  rod  act  ion  it  is  barely  neces- 
sar}^  to  speak  farther. 

The  term  "  reproduction  "  cannot  properly  be  confined  in  its  sig- 
nification to  the  periods  of  conception,  gestation  and  parturition,  but 
it  must  be  made  to  include  the  period  during  which  the  new  being  is 
dependent  upon  the  elaborative  offices  of  its  mother  for  its  suste- 
nance also.  Therefore  the  work  of  the  whole  machinery  is  necessary 
to  a  perfect  finish.  To  perfect  the  act  of  propagation  the  mammar}^ 
glands  are  as  essential  as  the  womb  and  ovaries  themselves.  Of 
course  it  should  be  the  desire  of  every  individual,  community  and 
nation  that  none  but  healthy  offspring  be  propagated.  To  accom- 
plish this  successfull}^  the  mother  must  of  necessity  bring  to  her  aid 
all  the  resources  with  which  the  Creator  has  endowed  her.  Pier  in- 
stincts, her  reason,  and  her  moral  training  must  point  out  to  her  the 
most  perfect  application  of  these  means  to  the  purposes  for  which 
each  was  designed.  Each  of  these  resources  has  a  law  which  governs 
it  with  almost  specific  certainty,  and  to  learn  their  interpretation  and 
act  upon  them  in  good  faith  is  the  office  of  the  wife  and  mother." 

Capulet,  as  alread}'  seen,  opposed  the  marriage  of  his  daughter 
whilst  yet  so  young,  while  on  the  other  hand,  her  mother  argued 
thus : 

"  Well,  think  of  marriage  now  ;  younger  than  you,  here  in  Verona, 
ladies  of  esteem,  are  made  already  mothers." 

Juliet  was  not  3'et  fourteen,  and  if  younger  than  she  were  made 
already  mothers,  that  would  presuppose  the  menstrual  function  to 
have  been  established  near  upon  the  twelfth  year, — an  age  much  too 
early  as  appears  in  the  argument  put  forth  in  the  earlier  pages  of 
this  chapter. 


f)2  SIIAKKSl'KAUK    AS    A    PIIYSKIAX. 

In  oui*  couiitiT,  where  fourteen  is  aliont  the  period  at  which  a 
majority  of  our  girls  take  on  menstrual  life,  out  of  some  hundreds- 
of  obstetric  eases,  tlie  writer  of  these  lines  has  attended  but  one 
patient  under  the  age  of  fourteen,  and  she  was  a  girl  of  more  than 
ordinar}'  physical  development,  and  is  now,  though  comparatively 
young,  at  least  ten  years  in  advance  of  her  real  age. 

The  same. talkative  nurse,  whilst  plotting  and  working  in  the  inter- 
ests of  Juliet  and  Romeo,  thus  remarks: 

"  I  am  the  drudge,  and  toil  in  your  delight, 
But  you  shall  beare  the  burden  soon  at  night." 

It  is  uncertain  whether  we  are  to  infer  that  copulation  or  parturi- 
tion is  meant  in  this  language,  l)ut  more  probably  the  latter,  as  com- 
mon observation  has  taught  mankind  in  general  that  child-birth  is 
more  common  at  night ; — the  other,  also,  perhaps  ;  but  burden  would 
come  in  therewith  as  a  misnomer  as  applied  to  the  former  it  is 
thought. 

Capulet,  in  his  anger  against  Juliet  for  not  wishing  to  be  married 
to  Paris,  uses  the  term  "  green  sickness  "  in  his  abuse  of  her.  How 
well  Shakespeare  kept  to  his  physiologj^  and  pathology,  will  be  ob- 
served even  here,  where  he  makes  his  charge  of  chlorosis  coincide 
exactly  with  the  age  and  non-menstrual  condition  of  little  Juliet; 
though  "  beauty  too  rich  for  use,  for  earth  too  dear,"  as  is  also 
declared  of  her,  would  hardly  have  been  found  coupled  with  a  pale 
chlorotic  face.  The  term  "  green  sickness  "  is  also  used  in  connec- 
tion w'ith  Marina,  the  young  girl  in  Pericles,  whose  virtue  saved 
her,  though  she  was  quartered  in  a  bawdy-house.  In  "Antony 
and  Cleopatra,"  it  is  asserted  that  Jjcpidus,  a  companion  of  Caesar, 
had  "  green  sickness  ;  "  which  makes  it  conclusive  that  j\  condition 
analogous  to  chlorosis  in  girls  was  recognized  as  sometimes  afflicting 
males,  even  at  that  early  date.  When  Lady  Macbeth  w-as  informed 
of  the  purpose  of  Duncan,  King  of  Scotland,  to  pass  the  night  at  her 
mansion,  she,  after  having  given  her  husband  a  curtain-lecture  as  to 
how  to  "  catch  the  nearest  way,"  thus  soliloquis'd :  "Come,  you 
spirits  that  tend  on  mortal's  thoughts,  unsex  me  here,  and  fill  me 
from  the  crown  to  the  toe,  top-full  of  the  direst  cruelty:  make  thick 
my  blood  stop  up  th'  access  and  passage  to  remorse  ;  that  no  com- 
punctious visitiugs  of  nature  shake  my  fell  pur[)ose,  nor  keep  peace 
between  th'  effect  and  it.  Come  to  ray  woman's  breast,  and  take 
my  milk  for  gall,  you  murdering  ministers,  wherever  in-j'our  sight- 
less substances  you  wait  on  nature's  mischief." 


OHSTETUU'S.  63 

The  milk  of  a  woman  in  the  eoiulitioii  of  iiiiiid  in  whieh  Lady  IMac- 
beth  was  at  the  time  of  tliis  self-communion,  would  not  only  often 
prove  gall  and  wormwood  to  the  unfortunate  infant  that  imbibed  it, 
l)ut  might,  mahap,  more  forcibly  represent  nicotine,  or  prussic  acid^ 
Failing  in  that  as  respects  its  action  on  the  physical  well-l)eing  of  the 
reciiiient,  it  would  doubtless  prove  the  pabulum  for  a  mental 
depravitv  of  the  darkest  and  most  malignant  t^-pe.  Most  great 
scoundrels  suck  it  from  their  mothers'  breasts.  Lady  Macbeth 
whilst  upbraiding  her  husband  for  his  reluctance  in  despatching  the 
sleeping  king,  enforces  her  arguments  thus:  "I  have  given  suck, 
and  know  how  tender  'tis  to  love  the  babe  that  milks  me :  I  would, 
while  it  was  smiling  in  my  face,  have  pluck'd  the  nipple  from  his 
boneless  gums,  and  dash'd  the  brains  out  had  I  so  sworn  as  you 
liave  done  to  do  this." 

In  this  quotation  we  recognize  the  unexplainal)le  truth  that  whether 
the  young  be  the  offspring  of  the  womb  of  her  that  nurses  it  or  not, 
the  simple  fact  of  its  receiving  its  sustenance  from  her  blood  serves 
to  engender  a  tie  between  the  nurse  and  her  charge  more  closely 
allied  in  sympathy,  and  seemingly  approaching  a  condition  of  actual 
consanguinity  nearer  than  does  any  other  relations  whatever.  This 
is  not  so  strange,  after  all.  If  the  blood  of  the  female  moulds  and 
forms  the  being  in  utero,  thus  impressing  upon  it  her  peculiar 
traits  of  character  and  mind,  as  also  its  physical  contour, — thus 
laying  the  groundwork  of  an  attachment  which  none  but  a  mother 
may  know,  why  may  not  she  who  afterwards  supplies  from  her  own 
body  all  the  material  for  the  development  of  the  new-born  dependant 
being  which  thenceforth  becomes  "  flesh  of  her  flesh  "  grow  in  love 
and  interest  as  with  her  own— which  it  in  reality  is?  We  don't 
know  really  but  that  the  nipple  is  a  tie  of  affection  harder  to  be  sun- 
dered than  are  the  ovaries  and  womb,  and  with  reason  for  its 
foundation.  The  first  attachment  has  all  that  endearment  of  close 
personal  contact  and  association  essential  to  the  generation  of  our 
tenderest  sj'mpathies,  aided  by  the  peculiar  instinctive  qualit}^  which 
attaches  even  the  animal  creation  to  that  object  which  is  their  protege 
and  dependant ;  whilst  the  being  in  utero  is,  by  most,  looked  upon 
as  an  inanimate  nondescript  with  few  claims  for  love  or  sympathy. 

However,  give  me  first  the  mother  who  generates  and  nourishes 
her  own  child,  and  I  will  present  j'ou  with  a  mother  who  has  the 
only  proper  maternal  instincts ; — next  to  her — not  she  who  loves 
the  i)leasures  inci<lent  to  the  generation  of  her  species,  and  turns 


64  SHAKESPEARE    A3    A    PHYSICIAN. 

the  infant  over  to  the  wet-nurse, — but  her  who  suckles  it,  is  more 
to  ray  liking. 

This  masculine  speech  of  his  wife  so  impressed  Macbeth,  that  he 
thought  she  ought  to  "  bring  forth  men-children  only,"  and  to  illus- 
trate the  general  idea  that  to  propagate  progeny  of  sound  physical 
and  mental  qualities  it  is  requisite  that  the  parentage  be  so  also, 
Macbeth  avers  that  if  he  be  a  coward,  "  protest  me  the  babj^  of  a 
girl!  " 

The  "  finger  of  a  birth-strangled  babe  "  was  an  ingredient  in  the 
witches  curious  compound,  which  is  prett}^  good  evidence  that  the 
crime  of  infanticide  was  not  a  "  thing  of  the  future  "  even  in  Shakes- 
peare's time.  Very  much  too  much  is  written,  and  too  little  done 
in  suppressing  the  practice  of  the  abortionists  of  our  country;  but 
be  the  crime  as  heinous  as  it  maj^  whilst  the  scoundrels  who  prac- 
tice it  are  known,  and  jet  have  access  as  practitioners  to  the  bgst 
families  in  the  community,  how  is  mere  law  going  to  succeed  in  even 
mitigating  it?  Public  sentiment  and  its  verdict  of  Guilty  can  only 
eradicate  the  evil. 

Writing  homiHes,  however,  nor  yet  publishing  books  b}"  the  medi- 
cal profession,  nor  moralizing,  will  abridge  or  curtail  very  soon  the 
tendency  to  abortion  among  the  people.  We  may  censure  profes- 
sional abortionists  as  much  as  we  may,  yet  who  shall  say  that  if 
people  loill  have  it  done,  it  is  not  better  done  bj'  one  accomplished 
and  skilled  in  its  performance  than  hy  a  novice? 

While  the  public  is  particeps  criminis  it  is  useless  to  anathematize 
their  willing  instruments.  Take  away  the  clients  and  we  shall  have  no 
shysters.  Physician  and  patient  are  murderers  who  go  hand  in  hand. 
-  The  hero  of  Shakespeare's  Caesarian  section  was  Macduff,  the 
avenger  of  the  death  of  Duncan.  He  seemed  to  possess  the  iron  will 
and  fearless  bravery  which  characterized  Ctesar  himself.  Whether 
or  not  this  undaunted  courage  and  stern  character  marks  all  individ- 
uals who  are  "  from  their  mother's  wombs  untimely  ripp'd,"  our 
statistics  are  not  sufficiently  elaborate  to  enable  us  to  determine. 

The  circumstances  under  which  the  CiTesarian  section  is  performed 
seems  not  to  have  been  taken  into  account  by  Shakespeare  in  regard 
to  the  birth  of  Macduff.  If  the  deliver}^  occurred  at  the  hands  of  a 
professional  attendant,  then  he  or  she  certainlj'  operated  too  "  pre- 
viousl}',"  as  there  are  no  indications  for  making  the  section  before 
the  termination  of  the  full  gestative  period — even  should  there  be  dis- 
covered or  known  beforehand  the  most  serious  impediments  to  deliv- 


OBSTETRICS.  65 

ery  at  term  by  the  usual  route.  As  the  valiant  warrior  was  ushered 
"untimely"  into  the  open  world  it  may  have  been  that  the  "ripping" 
was  of  an  accidental  character,  or  else  done  by  a  professional  noviti- 
ate, or  by  one  who  wished  to  display  his  "surgical  capacitj^,"  regard- 
less of  consequences.      We  knoiv  such. 

The  next  quotation  is  from  "  King  Lear,"  and  may  be  seen  in  its 
full  connection  in  Act  i,,  Scene  1.,  in  that  drama. 

Duke  of  Kent.  "Is  not  this  your  son,  m}'^  lord?  (^Referring  to 
Edmund  the  bastard). 

Gloster.  His  breeding,  sir,  hath  been  at  my  charge :  I  have  so 
often  blush'd  to  acknowledge  him,  that  now  I  am  brazed  to  it. 

Kent.     I  cannot  conceive  you. 

Gloster.  Sir,  this  young  fellow's  mother  could;  whereupon  she 
grew  round-womb'd  and  had,  indeed  sir,  a  son  for  her  cradle  ere  she 
had  a  husband  for  her  bed.  But  I  have  (also)  a  son,  sir,  by  order 
of  law,  some  years  older  than  this,  who  is  yet  no  dearer  in  my  ac- 
count: though  this  knave  came  somewhat  saucily  into  the- world, 
before  he  was  sent  for,  j^et  was  his  mother  fair,  there  was  good  sport 
at  his  making,  and  the  whoreson  must  be  acknowledged  ;  "  and  the 
same  peculiar  old  king,  in  heaping  curses  upon  his  ungrateful  pro- 
geny— his  daughter  Goneril, — puts  it  in  this  pointed  style: 

"Hear,  nature  hear!  dear  goddess  hear!  Suspend  thy  purpose, 
if  thou  didst  intend  to  make  this  creature  fruitful !  Into  her  womb  carry 
sterility !  Dry  up  in  her,  the  organs  of  increase  ;  and  from  her  dero- 
gate body  never  spring  a  babe  to  honor  her!  If  she  must  teem,  cre- 
ate her  child  of  spleen ;  that  it  may  live  and  be  a  thwart  disnatur'd 
torment  to  her !  Let  it  stamp  wrinkles  in  her  brow  of  youth  ;  with 
cadent  tears  fret  channels  in  her  cheeks  ;  turn  all  her  mother's  pains 
and  benefits  to  laughter  and  contempt  •  that  she  may  feel  how  sharp- 
er than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is  to  have  a  thankless  child."  Lear  was 
both  mad  and  insane.  Alas,  how  many  are  there,  whose  experience 
is  a  true  but  sad  commentary  upon  that  of  the  much  abused  old 
Lear ;  well  may  parents,  and  with  good  and  sufficient  reasons  may 
the  toil-worn  physician  above  all  others  exclaim,  "Ingratitude! 
thou  marble-hearted  fiend!" 

In  "Pericles,"  the  genii  thus  sings : 

"  Brief,  he  must  hence  depart  to  Tyre: 
His  queen,  with  child,  makes  her  desire 
(Which  who  shall  cross?)    along  to  go. 


66  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

Omit  we  all  their  dole  and  woe : 
Lychorida,  her  nurse,  she  takes, 
And  so  to  sea.     Their  vessel  shakes 
On  Neptune's  billow;  half  the  flood 
Hath  their  keel  cut ;  but  fortune's  mood 
Varies  again  :  the  grizzly  North 
Disgorges  such  a  tempest  forth 
That,  as  a  duck  for  life  that  dives, 
So  up  and  down  the  poor  ship  drives ; 
The  lady  shrieks,  and  well-a-near 
Does  fall  in  travail  with  her  fear." 

This  it  appears  was  a  prophecy,  of  which  the  following  was  the 
sequence : — 

Pericles  {on  shijJboard).  "Thou  God  of  this  great  vast,  rebuke 
these  surges,  which  wash  both  heaven  and  hell ;  and  thou,  that  hast 
upon  the  winds  command,  bind  them  in  brass,  having  call'd  them 
from  the  deep.  O !  still  thy  deafening,  dreadful  thunders ;  duly 
quench  thy  nimble,  sulphurous  flashes !  —  O !  how,  Lychorida,  how 
does  my  queen?  The  seaman's  whistle  is  a  whisper  in  the  ears  of 
death,  unheard.  —  Lychorida! — Lucina,  O!  Divinest  patroness 
and  midwife,  gentle  to  those  that  cry  by  night,  convey  thy  deity 
aboard  our  dancing  boat;  make  swift  the  pangs  of  my  queen's  tra- 
vails! —  Now,  Lychorida. — (^Enter  the  midwife  with  an  infant.^ 

Lychorida.  Here  is  a  thing  too  young  for  such  a  place,  who,  if  it 
had  conceit,  would  die,  as  I  am  like  to  do.  Take  in  your  arms  this 
piece  of  your  dead  queen. 

Pericles.     How,  how,  Lychorida! 

Lychorida.  Patience,  good  sir  ;  do  not  assist  the  storm.  Here's 
all  that  is  left  living  of  your  queen,  a  little  daughter:  for  the  sake 
of  it,  be  manly,  and  take  comfort. 

Pericles  {to  the  babe).  Now,  mild  may  be  thy  life;  quiet  and 
gentle  thy  condition;  for  thou  art  the  ruddiest  welcom'd  to  this 
world  that  e'er  was  prince's  child. 

Sailor  {to  Pericles).  Sir,  your  queen  must  over-board ;  the  sea 
works  high,  the  wind  is  loud,  and  will  not  lie  until  the  ship  be 
cleared  of  the  dead. 

Pericles.     That's  your  superstition. 

Sailor.  Pardon  us,  sir  ;  briefly  yield  her,  for  she  must  over-board 
straight. 


OBSTETRICS.  67 

Pericles.  As  you  think  meet. — Most  wretched  queen !  A  terrible 
child-bed  hast  thou  had,  my  dear ;  no  light,  no  fire:  the  unfriendly 
elements  forgot  thee  utterly ;  nor  have  I  time  to  give  thee  hallow'd 
to  thy  grave,  but  straight  must  cast  thee,  scarcely  coffln'd,  in  the 
ooze." 

They  throw  her  overboard,  and  being  close  upon  land,  her  body 
is  cast  ashore  where  it  is  found,  and  the  following  colloquy  occurs 
between  the  finders  and  the  persons  to  whom  they  give  the  body  in 
charge : 

"  How  fresh  she  looks  ;  they  were  too  rough  that  threw  her  into 
the  sea.     Make  fire  within :  fetch  hither  all  the  boxes  in  my  closet. 

Death  may  usurp  on  nature  many  hours,  and  yet  the  fire  of  life 
kindle  again  the  overpressed  spirits.  I  heard  of  an  Egyptian  once, 
that  had  nine  hours  lain  dead,  who  was  by  good  appliance  recovered. 

{Enter  servant  loith  boxes,  napkins  and  Jire).  Well  said,  well  said  ; 
the  fire  and  the  clothes ;  —  the  vial  once  more  ;  —  I  pray  you,  give 
her  air ! 

Gentlemen,  the  queen  will  live :  nature  awakes  a  warm  breath  out 
of  her:  she  hath  not  been  entranc'd  above  five  hours.  See  how  she 
'gins  to  blow  into  life's  flower  again! 

Gentleman.  The  heavens  through  you  increase  our  wonder,  and 
set  up  your  fame  forever.  (It  is  to  be  presumed  that  this  fellow 
turned  doctor  at  once,  and  went  forth  '  healing  and  to  heal,'  preceded 
by  flaming  hand-bills  setting  forth  that  he  made  resuscitation  a  spe- 
cialty ;  at  least,  any  boot-black  or  hostler  who  might  now  chance  to 
be  thus  eulogized,  would  straightway  arm  himself  with  certificates 
from  the  queen  and  the  credulous  gentlemen  who  surrounded  her, 
and  would  '  swing  his  shingle'  in  one  of  the  largest  hotels  or  the 
most  populous  street  in  one  of  the  best  cities.) 

Cerimon  (^a  lord).  She  is  alive!  behold  her  eye-lids,  cases  to 
those  heavenly  jewels  which  Pericles  hath  lost,  begin  to  part  their 
fringes  of  bright  gold :  the  diamonds  of  a  most  praised  water  do 
appear  to  make  the  world  twice  rich.  Live,  and  make  us  weep  to 
hear  your  fate,  fair  creature,  rare  as  you  seem  to  be !  (  The  queen 
moves. ) 

Queen.  O  dear  Diana!  where  am  I?  Where's  my  lord r  What 
world  is  this? 

2d  Gentleman.     Is  not  this  strange  ? 

1st  Gentleman.     Most  rare. 


68  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Cerimon.  Hush,  gentle  neighbor!  Lend  me  your  hands  ;  to  the 
next  chamber  bear  her.  Get  linen :  Now  this  matter  must  be  looked 
to,  for  her  relapse  is  mortal.  Come,  come  ;  and  ^sculapius  guide 
us." 

It  is  not  at  all  impossible  or  improbable,  that  the  actions  of  a 
ship  in  a  severe  storm,  or  even  in  ordinary  weather,  would  have 
produced  premature  labor  in  a  female  who  had  gone  to  sea  for  the 
first  time ;  the  sea-sickness  alone  would,  in  many,  be  sufficient  to 
set  up  uterine  action ;  and  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  story 
of  her  having  fallen  into  eclampsia  immediately  after  delivery,  as 
her  perturbed  nervous  system  would  have  favored  such  an  accident, 
hence  the  term  "trance"  as  used  by  the  dramatist.  There  is 
nothing  inconsistent  with  the  assertion  that  she  had  been  "  en- 
tranced" not  more  than  "five  hours"  and  her  recovery  occur 
afterwards,  as  we  know  that  puerperal  convulsions  may  leave  the 
patient  unconscious  many  hours,  and  yet  the  patient  recover  ;  and 
if  Shakespeare  had  let  the  term  "  scarcely  coffin' d  "  have  remained 
as  her  only  burial  appurtenances,  we  might  have  supposed  that 
even  the  casting  her  overboard  into  the  water  had  been  a  means  of 
aiding  in  her  recovery ;  but  he  unfortunately  spoils  this  hypothesis 
and  renders  his  whole  story  untenable  by  fabricating  the  box 
farther  on  so  "  closely  caulk' d  and  bitumed."  Even  a  leaky  chest 
would  have  served  the  purpose  better,  had  he  kept  his  story  in  the 
region  of  possibility,  for  his  "  close"  box  draws  him  into  an  error 
that  is  yet  common  among  the  community,  and  upon  which  many 
marvelous  newspaper  horrors  are  manufactured, — namely,  that 
persons  are  sometimes  found  turned  in  their  coffins,  thus  showing 
that  they  have  revived  after  having  been  fastened  in  their  coffins. 
These  stories  are  all  "stuff"  at  best,  and  particularly  would  it 
have  been  so  in  the  case  of  the  queen,  as  the  casket  was  water- 
tight,therefore  could  under  no  circumstances  have  admitted  air  suf- 
ficient to  supply  the  requirements  of  vitality.  When  the  respiratory 
function  has  been  completely  suspended  five  minutes  in  the  adult, 
it  is  seldom  that  they  are  ever  "blown  into  life's  flower"  again 
even  under  the  most  scientific  management.  In  the  case  of  new- 
born infants,  however,  the  case  is  quite  different,  as  they  may  re- 
main not  only  many  minutes,  but  I  fully  believe  an  hour — two 
hours !  without  respiring,  and  then,  sometimes,  be  resuscitated  by 
proper  management.  The  vital  powers  of  these  fresh  infants  is 
something  wonderful,  and  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  many,  very 


'  OBSTETRICS.  69 

many,  of  them  die  who  might  be  saved  if  the  accoucheur  would 
only  make  persistent  efforts  in  the  right  direction.  I  simply  inflate 
the  lungs  in  these  eases  by  applying  my  own  lips  closely  to  those  of 
the  infant,  at  the  same  time  closing  its  nostrils  with  thumb  and  in- 
dex finger,  and  forcibly  but  steadily  forcing  my  expired  breath  deep 
into  its  lungs  ;  I  then  turn  the  babe  from  side  to  side  and  compress 
the  chest  with  my  hands.  The  process  is  repeated — repeated — 
repeated — and  often  under  the  most  unfavorable  circumstances  the 
labor  is  rewarded  by  the  raising  a  live  child  instead  of  the  burying 
of  a  dead  one. 

The  Egyptian  story  is  all  a  hoax  ;  he  may  have  been  drunk  for 
nine  hours  and  then  have  recovered,  but  never  dead.  Marina,  to 
whom  the  queen  gave  birth  on  the  ship,  after  she  was  a  grown 
woman  fully  believed  that  her  mother  died  the  moment  she  gave 
her  birth;  and  Pericles  himself  also  declared  "  at  sea,  in  child-bed 
died  she."  As  an  evidence  of  his  own  virility,  and  that  of  Ophelia 
also,  Hamlet  speaks  thus  confidently:  "To  take  off  my  edge  would 
cost  you  a  grunting." 


CHAPTER    II. 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Definition — Shakespeare's  profound  knowledge  of  the  subject — Bucknill's 
eulogium — "It  is  all  the  best'' — Shakespeare's  special  study  of  insanity  an 
absurdity — His  intuition — Scene  before  an  Abbey — Jealousy  versus  sanity — A 
foul  conspiracy — A  psychological  charlatan — Sleeplessness  but  a  symptom — 
Shakespeare  draws  on  his  own  domestic  experience — Now  not  a  joke,  but  a 
dark  reality — Thrown  into  a  "dankish"  vault — The  cell  of  Foscari — Public 
institutions  need  surveillance — Preliminary  abuses — Probate  courts  and 
examinations  in  lunacy  —  Monkey  and  medical  expert — A  ten-dollar  fee — 
Charles  Keade — "Why  hast  thou  put  him  in  such  a  dream?" — No  darkness 
but  ignorance — Make  the  trial  of  it  in  any  constant  question— Erroneous 
assumption — Bucknill  on  memory — What  at  any  time  have  you  heard  her 
say? — "Out  damned  spot" — Here's  the  smell  of  blood  still — Will  she  go  now 
to  bed? — Cure  her  of  that — "Make  thick  my  blood  stop  up  the  access  and 
passage  to  remorse" — Cases  from  De  Boismont — "He  had  a  large  knife  in  his 
hand  and  went  straight  to  my  bed' ' — He  returned  as  he  came — "I  had  so  strange 
a  dream" — His  services  were  thereafter  dispensed  with — Somnambulism  and 
insanity — The  pulse  as  indicative  of  insanity — Did  you  nothing  hear? — Hallu- 
cinations— The  ghost — The  spectre  cat — The  doctor's  fright — Look!  Amaze- 
ment on  thy  mother  sits — Lesions  of  structure  necessary  to  lesions  of  func- 
tion— I'm  a'gwine  to  die!— One  finale  awaits  the  man  and  all  his  attributes — 
Love  and  sleeplessness — Age — "No  man  bears  sorrow  better" — The  final 
cataclysm — King  Lear  not  insane — A  dog's  obeyed  in  office — The  "Bed- 
lam beggar" — "How  does  the  king?" — "You  are  a  spirit,  I  know" — Lord 
Shaftesbury's  opinion — The  Emotions — Their  close  relationship  to  actual 
mental  diseases— Jealousy — With  "pin  and  web" — Othello,  the  Moor — "O! 
now  farewell  the  tranquil  mind" — Alas  the  day !  I  never  gave  him  cause— The 
ills  we  do  their  ill  instruct  as  to — Ninety  children  the  utmost  limit — The  rela- 
tive procreative  capacity  of  the  sexes — Monogamistic  relations — Abortion 
and  polygamy — Love — All  lovers  swear  more  performance  than  they  are  able — 
Love-marks— "Did  you  ever  cure  any  so?" — The  pale  complexion  of  true  love 
— "He  took  me  by  the  wrist  and  held  me  hard" — Mine  eyes  were  not  at  fault, 
for  she  was  beautiful— Lust — Not  from  Shakespeare — One  man  in  every  live— - 
Love  powders— My  daughter!  O  my  daughter! — Lucretius,  the  poet — A  veri- 
table letter — Venereal  excitement  not  love — Let  not  the  creaking  of  shoes — 
The  will  and  conception — "Could  I  find  out  the  woman's  part  in  me" — Pain- 
ful copulation  (Dyspareunia)— Anger— Envy. 

In  the  broadest  acceptation  of  the  term,  Psychology  means  the 
science  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  faculties.  More  recently,  how- 
ever, the  term  has  been  so  freely  used  to  denote  aberrant  phenomena 

70 


PSYCHOLOGY.  7 1 

in  connection  with  mental  conditions,  that  its  definition  can  now 
hardly  be  connected  with  healthy  intellectual  operations,  or  at  least, 
it  cannot  be  thus  restricted  in  its  significance. 

I  find,  in  looking  over  the  material  collected  for  this  chapter,  that 
to  arrange  it  in  an  appropriate  form  is  no  inconsiderable  task.  In 
the  first  place,  we  have  entire  dramas  in  which  the  most  salient  feat- 
ure of  the  plot  and  the  pith  of  the  whole  play  hinges  upon  the  char- 
acter of  an  insane  actor  ;  while  in  others  the  insanity  is  only  counter- 
feited by  the  individual  himself,  or  assumed  to  be  so  for  him.  Of 
the  former  kind  we  find  most  prominent  Hamlet,  King  Lear,  Timon 
of  Athens,  etc.,  while  of  the  other  a  very  good  illustration  is  seen  in 
the  "  Comedy  of  Errors."  Other  references  to  "  thick  coming  fan- 
cies," which  are  so  near  akin  to  mental  alienations  that  it  is  hard  to 
distinguish  the  line  of  separation  between  the  sane  and  the  insane, 
are  very  numerous,  and  will  all  be  found  referred  to  in  the  chapter. 
Shakespeare  has  written  most  learnedly  upon  this  subject.  More 
profoundlj^  it  is  thought,  by  good  judges,  than  perhaps  upon  any- 
thing else  connected  with  medicine.  So  thoroughly  and  skillfully 
has  he  portrayed  the  various  phases  of  insanity,  that  Bucknill,  a 
very  high  English  authority  upon  the  subject,  says: 

"  Shakespeare  not  only  possesses  more  psychological  insight  than 
all  other  poets,  but  more  than  all  other  writers."  The  extent  and 
exactness  of  the  psychological  knowledge  displayed  (in  his  writings) 
has  surprised  and  astonished  him,  and  he  can  only  account  for  it  on 
one  supposition,  namely,  that  "abnormal  conditions  of  the  mind  had 
attracted  Shakespeare's  diligent  observation,  and  had  been  a  favorite 
study.  This  would  seem  to  be  evident  from  the  mere  number  of 
characters  to  which  he  has  attributed  insanity,  and  the  extent  alone 
to  which  he  has  written  upon  the  subject." 

Anyone,  however,  who  studies  Shakespeare's  writings  will  be  likely 
to  think  he  has  written  the  hest  on  the  last  portion  he  has  read ;  and 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  reading  of  the  entire  work,  he  is  ready  to 
aver  that  it  is  all  the  hest!  I  suppose  that  that  was  the  state  of  men- 
tal admiration  which  actuated  Dr.  Bucknill  when  he  penned  the  lines 
just  quoted.  He  was  a  specialist,  and  could  see  more  of  the  powers 
of  the  great  dramatist  as  connected  with  his  own  department  of 
science  than  with  that  of  any  other.  We  will  make  allowance  for  his 
strong  language  accordingly.  That  he  should  presume,  however, 
that  Shakespeare  had  given  special  study  to  aberrant  mental  phe- 
nomena in  anything  like  a  scientific  way  is  rendered  utterly  ab- 


72  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

surd  even  by  data  furnished  from  his  own  pen.  He  tells  us  that 
there  was  but  one  small  and  poorly  ordered  insane  charity  then  in 
all  England  ;  though  he  makes  excuse  that  there  were  plenty  of 
roving  mad  people,  and  those  who  lived  in  the  family  circle,  with 
whom  Shakespeare  might  have  fallen  in  contact  and  thus  have 
acquired  his  wonderful  fund  of  knowledge  from  actual  observation. 
If  we  are  to  grant  the  truth  of  this  supposition  in  regard  to  his 
knowledge  of  insanity,  then  we  will  be  called  upon  to  admit  as 
much  in  regard  to  all  other  subjects  upon  which  he  has  written. 
Such  an  admission  is  wholly  inadmissible — more  particularly  without 
better  grounds  for  facilities  of  studying  his  various  themes  can  be 
shown  to  have  existed  than  is  presented  in  connection  with  his  study 
of  this.  The  theory  therefore  still  remains,  that  Shakespeare 
learned  few  things  :  he  kneiv  them  intuitively. 

We  will  then  come  directly  to  our  subject,  Psychology,  or  mental 
perturbations,  as  found  in  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors,"  Act  v., 
Scene  i.,  where  the  following  conversation  occurs  in  front  of  an 
Abbey : 

Abbess.     "  Be  quiet,  people.     Wherefore  throng  you  hither? 

Adriana.  To  fetch  my  poor  distracted  husband  hence.  Let  us 
come  in,  that  we  may  bind  him  fast,  and  bear  him  home  for  his  recov- 
ery. 

Angela.     I  knew  he  was  not  in  his  right  mind. 

Abbess.     How  long  hath  this  passion  held  the  man? 

Adriana.  This  week  he  hath  been  heavy,  sour,  sad ;  and  much 
different  from  the  man  he  was :  but  till  this  afternoon,  his  passion 
ne'er  broke  into  extremity  of  rage. 

Abbess.  Hath  he  not  lost  much  wealth  by  wreck  of  sea;  buried 
some  dear  friend?  hath  not  else  his  eye  stray'd  his  affection  in  un- 
lawful love? — a  sin  prevailing  much  in  youthful  men  who  give  their 
eyes  the  liberty  of  gazing.    Which  of  these  sorrows  is  he  subject  to? 

Adriana.  To  none  of  these,  except  it  be  the  last;  namely,  some 
love  that  drew  him  oft  from  home. 

Abbess.     You  should  for  that  have  reprehended  him. 

Adriana.     Why,  so  I  did. 

Abbess.     Ay,  but  not  rough  enough. 

Adriana.     As  roughly  as  my  modesty  would  let  me. 

Abbess.     Haply,  in  private. 

Adriana.     And  in  assemblies  too. 

Abbess.     Ay,  but  not  enough. 


PSYCHOLOGY.  78 

Adriana.  It  was  the  copy  of  our  conference  ;  in  bed  he  slept  not, 
for  my  urging  it ;  at  board  he  fed  not,  for  my  urging  it ;  alone,  it 
was  the  subject  of  my  theme;  in  company,  I  often  glanc'd  at  it ; 
still  did  I  tell  him  it  was  vile  and  bad. 

Abbess.  And  thereof  come  it  that  the  man  was  mad :  the  venom 
clamors  of  a  jealous  woman  poison  more  deadly  than  a  mad  dog's 
tooth.  It  seems  his  sleep  was  hind'red  by  thy  railing,  and  thereof 
comes  it  that  his  head  is  light.  Thou  say'st  his  meat  was  sauc'd 
with  th}^  upbraidings :  unquiet  meals  make  ill  digestions;  thereof 
the  raging  fire  of  fever  bred:  and  what's  a  fever  but  a  fit  of  mad- 
ness? Thou  say'st,  his  sports  were  hind'red  by  thy  brawls:  sweet 
recreation  barr'd,  what  doth  ensue,  but  moody  and  dull  melancholy, 
kinsman  to  grim  and  comfortless  despair,  and  at  her  heels  a  huge 
infectious  troop  of  pale  distemperatures  and  foes  to  life  ? 

In  food,  in  sport,   and  life  preserving  rest, 
To  be  disturb'd,  would  mad  or  man  or  beast." 

"His  sleep  was  hind'red  by  thy  railings,  and  thereof  comes  it 
that  his  head  is  light."  This  is  used  synonymously  with  "  crazy  " 
or  "  distracted,"  and  in  idea  coincides  very  closely  with  popular 
professional  notions  of  to-day — namely,  that  loss  of  sleep  is  a  very 
prolific  source  of  insanity,  when  the  fact  is  the  actual  pathological 
condition  upon  which  the  morbid  mental  manifestations  depend 
have  precedence,  perhaps  always,  to  the  morbid  vigilance — the 
sleeplessness  being  but  a  symptom. 

"Unquiet  meals  make  ill  digestions;  thereof  the  raging  fire  of 
fever  bred:  and  what's  a  fever  but  a  fit  of  madness?" 

The  dramatist  doubtless  used  less  precaution  in  regard  to  ac- 
curacy of  idea  in  this  farcical  delineation  than  he  would  have 
done  had  the  whole  matter  not  have  been  one  of  jest.  That  the 
first  clause  of  the  paragraph  is  true  to  the  letter  can  be  verified  by 
the  almost  daily  experience  of  almost  anybody.  There  may  be, 
perhaps,  a  remote  smattering  of  fact  in  the  second  proposition, 
while  in  the  last  there  is  no  logic  at  all — an  assertion  that  cannot  be 
truthfully  said  often  of  .Shakespeare. 

"Thou  say'st  his  sports  were  hind'red  by  thy  brawls;  sweet 
recreation  barr'd,  what  doth  ensue,  but  moody  and  dull  melancholy, 
kinsman  to  grim  and  comfortless  despair,  and  at  her  heels  a  huge 
infectious  troop  of  pale  distemperatures  and  foes  to  life?" 


74  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

This  quotation  shows  us  that  its  author  appreciated  the  situation 
to  repletion,  and  perhaps  had  learned  this  from  his  own  somewhat 
strange  domestic  situation ;  but  while  it  would  do  very  well  to 
denominate  the  restraints  as  irksome,  the  condition  could  not  be 
thought  a  particular  "  foe  to  life."  If  long  endured,  "  moody  and 
dull  melancholy,"  and  even  actual  "  grim  and  comfortless  despair," 
would  doubtless  beset  the  victim  ;  but  such  an  extreme  instance  as  is 
pictured  in  the  text  is,  it  is  presumed,  beyond  the  confines  of  actual 
experience,  and  belongs  only  to  the  realms  of  fiction. 

But  in  the  case  under  consideration  the  individnal  was  not  mad 
at  all,  as  appears  from  his  own  story, — a  story,  by  the  way,  the 
counterpart  of  many  which  happen  daily  even  in  this  enlightened 
country, — the  counterpart  of  many  such  cases  in  every  feature,  save 
one — the  motive — which  is  not  usually  a  joke,  but  a  deep,  shame- 
less, damnable,  murderous  conspiracy  to  do  to  some  one  a  dark  and 
murderous  wrong.  But  hear  what  the  much  abused  husband  has 
to  say: 

"My  wife,  her  sister,  and  a  rabble  more  of  vile  confederates . 
along  with  them  they  brought  one  Pinch,  a  hungry,  lean-fac'd  vil- 
lain, a  mere  anatomy,  a  montebank,  a  thread-bare  juggler,  and  a 
fortune-teller,  a  needy,  hollow-eyed,  sharp-looking  wretch,  a  living 
dead  man.  This  pernicious  slave,  forsooth,  took  on  him  as  a  con- 
jurer, and  gazing  in  mine  eyes,  feeling  my  pulse,  and  with  no  face 
as't  were,  out  facing  me,  cried  out  I  was  possess'd.  Then,  alto- 
gether, they  fell  upon  me,  bound  me,  bore  me  thence,  and  in  a  dark 
and  dankish  vault  at  home  they  left  me  and  my  man,  both  bound 
together ;  till,  gnawing  with  my  teeth,  my  bonds  in  sunder,  I  gained 
my  freedom  and  immediately  ran  hither  to  your  grace,  whom  I  be- 
seech to  give  me  ample  satisfaction,  for  these  deep  shames,  and 
great  indignities." 

From  the  known  integrity  of  the  managers  of  some  of  our 
"  Private  Insa,ne  Hospitals,"  it  is  presumed  that  they  are  con- 
ducted on  a  plan  of  the  first  character  as  to  their  qualities  as  a 
home,  and  in  the  advantages  the}'^  offer  as  to  skilled  treatment  of 
their  patrons  ;  but  that  abuses  hover  about  some  of  them  of  an  order 
illustrated  by  the  above  case,  we  do  not  hesitate  to  believe. 
"Dankish  vaults"  conceal  within  them  scenes  of  horror  and  tales 
of  woe  only  equalled  by  that  of  the  cell  of  Fascari,  "  which  never 
echo'd  but  to  sorrow's  sounds,  the  sigh  of  long  imprisonment,  the 


PSYCHOLOGY.  75 

step  of  feet  on  which  the  iron  clank'd,  the  groan  of  death,  the 
imprecation  of  despair!"  Glimpses  of  this  life  of  forced  imprison- 
ment in  so-called  "Inebriate  Homes,"  and  like  institutions,  occa- 
sionally leak  out  through  the  public  prints  and  by  other  means — 
tales  of  horror  which  make  us  shudder  at  their  bare  recital — many 
of  which  are  false  in  toto  no  doubt,  while  many  of  them  are,  it  is 
to  be  feared,  but  too  true.  These  grave  apprehensions  do  not 
alone  apply  to  "Private  Retreats,"  etc.,  but  our  public  institu- 
tions need  the  surveillance  of  close  inspection  as  well.  Ordinary 
individuals  can  do  nothing  towards  correcting  abuses  in  high  places. 
To  one  invested  with  less  authority  than  had  Governor  Butler 
when  conducting  his  Tewkesbury  investigations,  or  possessed  of 
less  pertinacity  and  will-force,  it  would  be  but  folly  to  even  in- 
sinuate that  there  is  a  probability  of  something  wrong  in  the  man- 
agement of  any  of  these  institutions,  either  private  or  public.  It 
is  not  however  exclusively  to  the  abuses  of  persons  inside  of  hos- 
pitals that  we  may  refer.  Abuses  occur  which  are  done  in  broad 
daylight,  and  are  open  to  the  inspection  of  any  one  who  will  take 
the  time  to  look.  I  have  in  mind  the  proceedings  preliminary  to 
placing  a  person  in  an  insane  asylum.  Who  ever  heard  of  one 
accused  of  being  insane,  that,  when  carried  before  a  court  of  en- 
quiry, come  off  cleared  —  that  is,  to  be  adjudged  sane  ?  I  have 
never  been  made  cognizant  of  such  an  occurrence.  There  are 
abundant  reasons  for  this.  In  the  first  place  there  are  personal 
favorites  of  the  court  officers  among  the  medical  men — medical 
men  who  dabble  in  politics,  who  are  by  some  means  (collusory  ones 
commonl}'^)  apprised  of  the  fact  that  an  examination  in  lunacy  is 
to  be  made,  and  that  their  particular  erudition  is  required  in  the 
premises.  These  professional  gentlemen  are  the  counterpart  of 
the  good  citizens  who  make  themselves  conveniently  near  so  as 
to  receive  a  summons  to  sit  on  all   the   juries.      Many   of  these 


A  Victim  of  the  "Certificate"  Process, 
professional  insane  examiners  are  possessed  of  little  more  real 
knowledge  of  the  cases  they  are  called  to  investigate  and  to 
certify  to  than  the  monkey — in  fact,  differ  little  from  the  veritable 
ape,  except  in  the  repudiation  of  the  punchinello  cap  and  the  sub- 
stitution therefor  of  the  plug-hat.  The  fee  of  ten  dollars  allowed 
for  the  services  of  the  brace  of  experts  is  sufficient  to  procure  an 
affirmative  certificate  which  will  incarcerate  a  person,  sane  or  in- 
sane, in  a  limitless  imprisonment.  Read  the  work  of  Charles 
Reade,  entitled  "A  Terrible  Temptation,"  for  a  pretty  fair  pict- 
ure of  this  subject.  The  ''lean,  hungry,  villainous  "  sort  of  hu- 
manity in  physicians'  garb  are  the  ones,  even  in  our  day,  who  go 
about  to  "Conjure  and  gaze  in  people's  eyes,  feeling  their  pulse, 
and  crying  out  '  you  are  possess'd.'  "  What  show  then  for  justice 
has  either  man  or  woman  who  may  be  singled  out  by  the  designing 
and  crafty  with  a  view  to  imprisonment  under  this  guise? 

In  "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  A.  iii.,  S.  ii.,  we  find  the 
fo  lowing  lines: 


"  All  fancy-sick  she  is,  and  pale  of  cheer, 
With  sighs  of  love,  that  cost  the  fresh  blood  dear." 


PSYCHOLOGY.  77 

Truly,  disquietude  of  mind  from  any  cause  will  tax  the  "  fresh 
blood"  equal  to  the  severest  physical  labor;  and  of  the  two,  mus- 
cular exertion  is  much  less  destructive  of  the  vital  forces.  Cnesar's 
ipicture  of  Cassius  illustrates  this  proposition,  "Lunatic"  is 
spoken  of  in  "Taming  the  Shrew,"  and  also  in  A.  ii.,  S.  v.,  in 
"Twelfth  Night:" 

Sii'  Tohy  Belch.     "  Why,  thou  hast  put  him  in  such  a  dream, 
that  when  the  image  of  it  leaves  him  he  must  run  mad. 
Maria.     Nay,  but  say  true  ;  does  it  work  upon  him? 
Sir  Tohy.     Like  aqua-vitse  with  a  midwife." 

This  dialogue  had  reference  to  the  trick  which  the  fun-loving 
maid  pla3^ed  at  the  expense  of  that  self-sufficient  gentleman,  Mal- 
volio,  who  had  a  great  wish  to  make  favor  with  the  affections  of  his 
mistress  with  a  view  to  ultimate  marriage.  He  really  loved  her, 
and  the  jovial  Sir  Toby  compares  its  hopelessness  to  a  dream,  and 
true  to  human  nature  suggests  the  possibility  of  his  going  mad 
when  he  is  fully  undeceived.  This  was  not  likely  to  happen  in  the 
case  of  Malvolio,  who,  no  doubt  whilst  he  loved,  also  had  more  or 
less  mercenation  coupled  with  his  other  motives — a  sentiment  which 
would  have  saved  him. 

The  good  lady,  Olivia,  the  subject  of  poor  Malvolio's  "flame," 
was  herself  "  addicted  to  a  melancholy,"  if  we  may  believe  the 
laughing  Maria ;  though  she  was  after  cured  by  marriage.  The 
saucy  maid  and  bacchanalian  "Sir  Toby"  were  not  content  to 
make  the  poor  steward  a  victim  to  the  cultivation  of  a  delusive 
hope,  but  heartlessly  carried  the  joke  to  the  point  of  declaring  that 
he  was  "tainted  in  his  wits;  come,  we'll  have  him  in  a  dark  room 
and  bound,"  which  they  did,  as  the  after  conversation  will  explain: 
(Here  a  cloicn  enters  his  prison  in  the  guise  of  a  curate.) — A.  iv.,  S.  ii. 

Malvolio.     "  Who  calls  there? 

Cloicn.  Sir  Topas,  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visit  Malvolio,  the 
lunatic. 

Malvolio.     Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas  ;  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to  my  lady. 

Cloion.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend!  how  vexest  thou  this  man. 
Talkest  thou  of  nothing  but  ladies? 

Sir  Tohy  Belch.     Well  said,  Master  Parson. 

Malvolio.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged. — Good  Sir 
Topas,  don't  think  I  am  mad:  they  have  laid  me  here,  in  hideous 
darkness. 


78  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Cloion.  Fie!  thou  dishonest  sathan!  I  call  thee  by  the  most 
modest  terms ;  for  I  am  one  of  those  gentle  ones  that  will  use  the 
devil  himself  with  courtesy.     Say'st  thou  that  house  is  dark? 

Malvolio.     As  hell,  Sir  Topas. 

Clown.  It  hath  bay  windows  transparent  as  barricadoes,  and  the 
clear  stories  toward  the  south  north  are  lustrous  as  ebony ;  and 
yet  coraplainest  thou  of  obstruction? 

Malvolio.  I  am  not  mad,  Sir  Topas;  I  say  to  you  this  house  is 
dark. 

Cloron.  Mad  man,  thou  errest:  I  say  there  is  no  darkness  but 
ignorance,  in  which  thou  art  more  puzzled  than  the  Egyptians  in 
their  fog. 

Malvolio.  I  say,  that  this  house  is  dark  as  ignorance,  though 
ignorance  was  as  dark  as  hell ;  and  I  say,  there  was  never  man 
thus  abused.  I  am  no  more  mad  than  you  are  ;  make  the  trial  of  it 
in  any  constant  question. 

Cloion.  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concerning  water- 
fowl? 

Malvolio.  That  the  soul  of  one  generation  might  haply  inhabit 
a  bird. 

Clown.     What  think  thou  of  his  opinion? 

Malvolio.  I  think  nobly  of  the  soul,  and  no  way  approve  his 
opinion, 

Cloivn.  Fare  thee  well ;  remain  thee  still  in  darkness.  Thou 
shalt  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras,  or  I  will  allow  of  thy  wits, 
and  fear  to  kill  a  wood- chuck,  lest  thou  dispossess  the  soul  of  thy 
gran-dam;  fare  thee  well." 

In  the  position  assumed  by  Shakespeare  when  he  undertakes  to 
establish  the  fact  of  the  sanity  of  an  individual  by  the  connected 
manner  in  which  he  can  answer  a  line  of  questions,  we  see  but  the 
expression  of  popular  opinion.  Nothing  could  be  more  fallacious 
than  such  an  idea.  Alienists  tell  us  that  in  "  making  trial  of  it," 
"  in  any  constant  question,"  might  serve  to  disclose  aberrations  of 
the  mind  in  those  who  are  afflicted  with  any  form  of  acute  mania, 
but  it  would  not  hold  good  in  numberless  instances  in  chronic  mania, 
nor  in  melancholia,  or  partial  insanity.  Indeed,  says  Bucknill, 
"  the  possessor  of  the  most  brilliant  memory  we  ever  met  with  was 
a  violent  and  mischievous  maniac.  He  would  quote  page  after  page 
from  the  French,  Latin  and  Greek  classics,  and  the  Iliad  and  the 
best  plays  of  Moli^re  in  particular  he  seemed  to  have  at  his  finger's 
ends." 


PSYCHOLOGY.  79 

The  following  graphic  description  is  found  in  "Macbeth,"  A.  v., 
S.  L: 

Doctor.  "  I  have  two  nights  watched  with  you,  but  can  perceive 
no  truth  in  your  report.     When  was  it  she  last  walked? 

Gentleman.  Since  his  majesty  went  into  the  field,  I  have  seen  her 
rise  from  her  bed,  throw  her  nightgown  upon  her,  unlock  her  closet, 
take  forth  paper,  fold  it,  write  upon  it,  read  it,  afterwards  seal  it, 
and  again  return  to  bed  ;    yet  all  this  while  in  a  most  fast  sleep. 

Doctor.  A  great  perturbation  in  nature,  to  receive  at  once  the 
benefit  of  sleep,  and  do  the  effects  of  watching.  In  this  slumbering 
agitation,  besides  her  walking  and  other  actual  performances,  what 
at  any  time  have  you  heard  her  say  ? 

Gentleman.     That,  sir,  which  I  will  not  repeat  after  her. 

Doctor.      You  may,  to  me  ;  an'ts  most  meet  you  should. 

Gentleman.  Neither  to  you,  nor  to  any  one,  having  no  witness  to 
confirm  my  speech. 

{Enter  Lady  3Iacbeth  ivith  a  light.) 

Look  you !  here  she  comes.  This  is  her  very  guise,  and  upon  my 
life  fast  asleep.     Observe  her:  stand  close. 

Doctor.     How  came  she  by  that  light? 

Gentleman.     Why,  it  stood  by  her;  'tis  her  command. 

Doctor.     You  see  her  eyes  are  open. 

Gentleman.     Ay,  but  their  sense  is  shut. 

Doctor.   What  is  it  she  does  now?   Look,  how  she  rubs  her  hands. 

Gentleman.  It  is  an  accustomed  action  with  her  to  seem  thus 
washing  her  hands  ;  I  have  known  her  continue  in  this  a  quarter  of 
an  hour. 

Lady  Macbeth.     Yet  here's  a  spot. 

Doctor.  Hark !  She  speaks.  I  will  set  down  what  comes  from 
her,  to  satisfy  my  memory  the  more  strongly. 

Lady  Macbeth.  Out,  damned  spot!  Out,  I  say.— One,  two: 
why,  then,  'tis  time  to  do  it.— Hell  is  murky!— Fie,  my  lord,  fie!  a 
soldier  and  afraid?  What  need  we  fear  who  knows  it,  when  none 
can  call  our  power  to  account?  Yet  who  would  have  thought  the 
old  man  to  have  had  so  much  blood  in  him  ? 

Doctor.     Do  you  mark  that? 

Lady  Macbeth.  The  thane  of  Fife  had  a  wife :  where  is  she  now  ? 
What,  will  these  hands  ne'er  be  clean?— No  more  o'  that,  my  lord  ; 
no  more  o'  that ;  you  mar  all  with  this  starting. 


80  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Doctor.     Go  to,  go  to  ;  you  have  known  what  you  should  not. 

Gentleman.  She  has  spoken  what  she  should  not,  I  am  sure  of 
that ;  Heaven  knows  what  she  has  known. 

Lady  Macbeth.  Here's  the  smell  of  the  blood  still ;  all  the  per- 
fumes of  Arabia  will  not  sweet  these  little  hands.      Oh!    Oh!    Oh! 

Doctor.     What  a  sight  is  there !     The  heart  is  sorely  charged. 

Gentleman.  I  would  not  have  such  a  heart  in  my  bosom,  for  the 
dignity  of  the  whole  body. 

Doctor.     Well,  well,  well, — 

Gentleman.     Pray  God  it  be,  sir. 

Doctor.  This  disease  is  beyond  my  practice  ;  yet  I  have  known 
those  who  have  walked  in  their  sleep,  who  have  died  holily  in  their 
beds. 

Lady  Macbeth.  Wash  your  hands ;  put  on  your  night-gown ; 
look  not  so  pale. — I  tell  you  yet  again,  Banquo's  buried  ;  he  cannot 
come  out  on's  grave. 

Doctor.     Even  so? 

Lady  Macbeth.  To  bed,  to  bed  ;  there's  knocking  at  the  gate. 
Come,  come,  come,  come,  give  me  your  hand.  What's  done,  caur 
not  be  undone :  to  bed,  to  bed,  to  bed. 

Doctor.     Will  she  go  now  to  bed? 

Gentleman.     Directly, 

Doctor.  Foul  whisperings  are  abroad.  Unnatural  deeds  do 
breed  unnatural  troubles ;  infected  minds  will  to  their  deaf  pillows 
discharge  their  secrets.  More  needs  she  the  divine  than  the  physi- 
cian. Look  after  her  ;  remove  from  her  the  means  of  all  annoyance, 
and  still  keep  eyes  upon  her." 

Farther  on  in  the  same  tragedy : — 

Macbeth.     "  How  does  your  patient,  doctor? 

Doctor.  Not  so  sick,  my  lord,  as  she  is  troubled  with  thick-com- 
ing fancies,  that  keep  her  from  her  rest. 

Macbeth.  Cure  her  of  that.  Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind 
diseas'd,  pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow,  raze  out  the 
written  troubles  of  the  brain,  and  with  some  sweet  oblivious  anti- 
dote cleanse  the  stuff' d  bosom  of  that  perilous  grief  which  weighs 
upon  the  heart? 

Doctor.     Therein  the  patient  must  minister  unto  himself, 

Macbeth.  Throw  physic  to  the  dogs  ;  I'll  none  of  it.  Doctor,  if 
thou  could'st  find  her  disease,  and  purge  it  to  a  sound  and  pristine 


PSYCHOLOGY.  81 

health,  I  would  applaud  thee  to  the  very  echo,  that  should  applaud 
again." 

Now,  in  the  analysis  of  the  above  quoted  matter  we  find  that  the 
good  doctor  who  attended  Lady  Macbeth  did  not  deem  her  really 
sick  ;  but  in  this  he  was  no  doubt  mistaken.  In  the  first  place,  she 
had  been  the  subject  of  sleep-walking  before  the  occurrence  of  the 
murder  of  Duncan,  and  the  excitement  incident  to  that  occasion 
had  no  doubt  aggravated  the  tendency  into  actual  insanity,  as  the 
doctor  says  her  "  thick-coming  fancies  keep  her  from  her  rest,"  a 
symptom  always  present  in  acute  mania.  I  say  that  she  had  been 
somnambulistic  before  the  murder,  from  the  fact  that  neither  remorse, 
grief,  or  indeed  any  emotional  perturbation,  is  sufficient  to  start 
suddenly  into  existence  this  form  of  mental  aberration,  That  when 
it  exists  it  is  of  slow  and  gradual  growth — but  liable  to  be  excited 
into  active  insanity  by  any  circumstances  which  force  a  strain  upon 
the  mind.  Were  I  called  upon  to  investigate  a  case  analogous  to 
that  described  as  connected  with  the  murder  of  the  sleeping  Dun- 
can, and  knowing  all  the  facts  as  therein  detailed,  I  should  have  no 
hesitation  in  expressing  the  opinion  that  Lad}^  Macbeth  with  her 
own  hand  committed  the  deed  in  her  sleep.  We  have  proof  that 
Macbeth  was  first  urged  to  the  commission  of  the  deed  by  the  wife, 
whose  heart  was  set  upon  rising  to  fame  and  power ;  she  herself 
says  "he  is  too  full  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  to  catch  the 
nearest  way."  Her  waking  contemplations  in  regard  to  the  con- 
summation of  her  wishes  could  easily  have  stimulated  her  sleep- 
walking propensities  into  the  certain  performance  of  the  very  act, 
herself.  Lady  Macbeth  had  it  in  her  heart  to  do  the  murder  with 
her  own  hand  if  need  be,  as  the  following  will  show : 

"  (Enter  an  attendant.) 

Lady  M.     What  is  your  tidings  ? 

Attendant.     The  king  comes  here  to-night. 

Lady  M.  Thou'rt  mad  to  say  it.  Is  not  thj'  master  with  him? 
who,  were't  so,  would  have  inform' d  for  preparation. 

Attendant.  So  please  you,  it  is  true  ;  our  thane  is  coming.  One 
of  my  fellows  had  the  speed  of  him ;  who,  almost  dead  for  breath, 
had  scarcely  more  than  would  make  up  his  message. 

Lady  M.  Give  him  tending;  he  brings  great  news.  (Ex. 
attendant.)  The  raven  himself  is  hoarse,  that  croaks  the  fatal 
entrance  of    Duncan  under   my  battlements.      Come,  you    spirits 


82 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


that  tend  on  mortal  thoughts,  unsex  me  here,  and  fill  me,  from  the 
crown  to  the  toe,  top-full  of  direst  cruelty ;  make  thick  my  blood 
stop  up  th'  access  and  passage  to  remorse ;  that  no  compunctious 
visitings  of  nature  shake  my  fell  purpose,  nor  keep  peace  between 
th'  effect  and  it.  C*ome  to  my  woman's  breasts,  and  take  my  milk 
for  gall,   you  murdering  ministers,  wherever  in  your  sightless  sub- 


stances you  wait  on  nature's  mischief.  Come,  thick  night,  and  pall 
thee  in  the  dunnest  smoke  of  hell,  that  my  keen  knife  see  not  the 
wound  it  makes,  nor  heaven  peep  through  the  blankness  of  the 
dark  to  cry,  "Hold,  hold!" 

Of  this  kind  of  cases  we  find  ample  records.  I  will  quote  from 
Deboismont:  "  Dom.  Duhaget  was  of  a  good  family  in  Gascony; 
he  had  been  a  captain  in  the  infantry  for  twenty  years  ;  I  never 
knew  any  one  possessing  any  more  amiability  or  piety.     We  had," 

he  related,  "  a  friar  at ,  where  I  was  before  I  came  to  Pierre 

Chdtel,  of  a  melancholy  disposition  and  a  gloomy  character,  who 
was  known  to  be  a  somnambulist.  Sometimes,  during  the  parox- 
ysms, he  would  leave  his  cell,  and  re-enter  it  alone  ;  at  others,  he 
would  lose  himself,  and  have  to  be  brought  back. 


rsYcnOLOGY.  83 

His  case  had  been  treated,  and  as  the  returns  were  verj'  rare,  it 
had  ceased  to  attract  attention.  One  night,  I  was  sitting  up  bej^ond 
my  usual  hour  for  retiring.  I  was  engaged  in  looking  over  some 
papers  in  ray  desk,  when  I  heard  the  door  open,  aud  saw  the  friar 
enter,  in  a  complete  state  of  somnambulism.  His  eyes  were  open, 
but  fixed  (How  truthfully  Shakespeare  notes  this  fact  in  the  case 
of  Lad}'  M.)  ;  he  had  on  onl}^  the  garments  in  which  he  slept,  and 
held  a  large  knife  in  his  hand.  He  went  straight  to  my  bed ; 
appeared  to  satisfy  liimself  by  feeling,  that  1  was  really  there  ; 
after  which  he  struck  three  heavy  blows  so  powerfullj^,  that  the 
blade,  after  piercing  the  clothes,  entered  deep  into  the  mattress,  or 
rather  the  mat,  which  I  used  in  its  stead.  When  he  first  entered, 
his  brow  was  frowning  and  the  muscles  of  his  face  contracted. 
Having  struck,  he  turned  round,  and  I  observed  that  instead  of  the 
frowning  and  distorted  features,  his  countenance  was  overspread 
with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction.  The  light  from  two  lamps  that 
were  on  mj-  desk  had  no  effect  on  his  eyes ;  he  returned  as  he  came, 
opening  and  shutting  quietly  the  two  doors  that  led  to  my  cell. 

The  next  day,  I  summoned  the  somnambulist,  and  asked  him 
quietly  of  what  he  had  dreamed  the  previous  night.  At  the  ques- 
tion he  was  agitated.  '  Father,'  said  he,  '  I  had  so  strange  a  dream 
that  I  do  not  like  to  tell  you  of  it ;  it  is,  perhaps,  the  work  of  the 
evil  one,  and — '  'I  command  it,'  replied  I;  'a  dream  is  always 
involuntary,  and  is  but  an  illusion.'  '  Father,'  said  he,  'I  was 
hardlj'  asleep  before  I  dreamed  that  you  had  killed  my  mother ; 
that  her  bleeding  shade  appeared  and  demanded  vengeance  ;  at  this 
sight  I  was  so  enraged  that  I  flew  like  a  madman  to  your  apartment 
and  stabbed  you.'  I  then  related  to  him  what  had  occurred,  and 
showed  him  the  evidence  of  the  blows  he  had  dealt,  as  he  thought, 
upon  me.     His  services,  at  night,  were  therafter  dispensed  with." 

It  is  evident  that  the  symptoms  manifest  in  the  conduct  of  Lady 
Macbeth  were  placed  to  the  credit  of  insanity,  and  that  the  treat- 
ment in  vogue  for  that  malady  was  perhaps  invoked  for  her  cure. — 
as  this  phraseology^  "  find  her  disease,  and  purge  it  to  a  sound  and 
pristine  health,"  etc.,  will  make  apparent;  it  is  certain,  however, 
that  we  would  in  diagnosing  a  case  manifesting  sjnnptoms  as  in 
that  of  the  Prior,  have  to  be  cautious  in  the  expression  of  an  opin- 
ion, because  such  freaks  may  occur  in  physiological  conditions,  as 
in  dreams,  reveries,  etc. 

It  is  quite   probable,   however,  that  we  would   always  find   un- 


84  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

doubted  insanity  in  cases  so  far  progressed  as  that  of  the  two  cases 
mentioned ;  indeed  that  is  a  common  sequel  to  a  vast  majority 
of  insidious  mental  disturbances.  I  have  known,  liowever,  within 
the  bounds  of  my  own  limited  observation,  somnambulistic  condi- 
tions of  the  most  confirmed  type  which  never  produced,  seemingly, 
anything  like  a  pathological  condition,  though  present  in  the  par- 
ties for  many  years.  Judicial  decision  has,  in  cases  involving- 
offences  committed  in  a  state  of  somnambulism,  placed  it  on  a  par 
with  insanity, — thus  declaring  the  irresponsibility  of  a  person  for 
acts  committed  whilst  in  this  state  of  mind. 

In  reasoning  upon  these  cases,  it  certainlj^  would  appear  that 
however  normal  the  mind  maj'^  act  during  the  state  of  wakefulness, 
that  yet  the  recumbent  position  of  the  body,  or  some  condition 
resulting  from  the  process  of  sleep,  must,  for  the  time,  produce  a 
transient  morbid  process  in  the  cerebrum  which  is  the  starting  point 
for  its  morbid  action.  It  is  scarcely  reasonable  that  we  have  mor- 
bid ideas  leading  to  morbid  actioi^s,  emanating  from  a  purely  physi- 
ological source. 

The  remarkable  fact  is  again  apparent  in  the  foregoing  quotation 
of  the  accuracy  of  Shakespeare's  therapeutics.  He  would  use 
some  "sweet  oblivious  antidote  "  just  as  would  the  medical  man 
this  hour,  under  like  circumstances  ;  though  doubtless  the  modern 
psychologist  has  remedies  at  command  which  more  nearly  come  up 
to  the  idea  of  "  sweet  and  oblivious  "  than  had  the  practitioner  of 
1483.  Bromide  of  potassium,  chloroform,  hydrate  of  chloral,  etc., 
were  not  then  known  to  the  profession — except,  may  be,  the  latter, 
or  some  drug  analagous  to  it  in  action  as  used  by  Friar  Lawrence, 
and  noted  further  on  in  this  volume.  Opium  and  its  preparations 
have  always  been  the  "  antidotes"  (in  the  Shakespearean  sense)  to 
mental  troubles, — hold  the  front  rank  yet  and  perhaps  always  will, 
though  it  seems  not  to  be  as  well  borne  now  as  in  former  times.  It  is 
no  doulit  the  remedy  referred  to  in  the  text. 

The  doubt  and  distrust  in  regard  to  the  potency  of  medicine,  and 
yet  the  clinging  to  the  idea  that  something  could  be  done,  is  clearl}^ 
manifest  in  the  remarks  of  Macbeth  when  he  wishes  phj^sic  to  be 
thrown  to  the  dogs  but  asks  half  beseechingly  if  the  doctor  cannot 
find  her  disease  and  purge  it  to  health.  He  also  is  aped  by  the  public 
to-day  in  the  manner  most  congenial  in  compensating  the  physician 
for  his  services — would  "applaud  him  to  the  very  echo."  Many 
people  prefer  this  method  of  liquidating  their  doctor's  bill  rather 
than  by  paying  cash. 


PSYCHOLOGY.  85 

We  read  the  following  profoiiud  thought  in  Hamlet : 

Queen.  "This  is  the  very  coinage  of  your  brain:  this  bodiless 
creation  ecstacy  is  very  cunning  in. 

Hamlet.  Ecstacy!  My  pulse,  as  yours,  doth  temperately  keep 
time,  and  makes  as  healthful  music.  It  is  not  madness  that  I  have 
utter'd:  bring  me  to  the  test  and  I  the  matter  will  re-word,  which 
madness  would  gambol  from.  Mother,  for  love  of  grace,  lay  not 
that  flattering  unction  to  your  soul,  that  not  your  trespass,  but  my 
madness  speaks :  it  will  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place,  whilst 
rank  corruption,  mining  all  within,  infects  unseen." 

This  conversation  occurred  between  Hamlet  and  his  mother  rela- 
tive to  a  declaration  on  the  part  of  the  former  that  he  had  seen  and 
conversed  with  the  ghost  of  his  father — the  king,  whom  his  mother 
and  her  paramour  had  secretly  murdered. 

Hamlet's  defence  of  his  own  sanity  is  a  pretty  thorough  one.  He 
claims  that  he  had  no  ecstacy  from  the  fact  that  he  had  no  lesion  of 
the  circulation,  and  that  he  maintained  ability  to  recount  all  that 
occurred  in  conversation  with  the  ghost.  The  first  of  these  pleas 
had  some  foundation  in  fact ;  as  it  is  known  that  in  ecstatic  condi- 
tions external  sensations  are  suspended,  and  all  the  vital  functions 
retarded  and  sluggish,  whilst  voluntary  movements  are  arrested 
and  held  in  complete  abeyance,  the  pulse  therefore  not  keeping 
step  to  "  healthful  music,"  but  doubtless  being  less  frequent  than 
normal ;  during  this  time,  however,  the  mental  faculties  are  not 
necessarily  suspended. 

Upon  this  point  so  eminent  an  authority  as  Bucknill  also  says, 
as  was  said  in  a  previous  chapter  of  Malvolio,  who  wished  his  sanity 
tested  "by  any  constant  question" — a  maniac  may  gambol  from 
reproducing  in  the  same  words  any  statement  he  has  made  when  he 
is  affected  with  acute  mania,  but  in  some  chronic  forms  he  may  keep 
up  a  line  of  coherent  conversation  as  well  as  those  of  the  soundest 
minds  ; — and  as  to  the  condition  of  the  pulse  as  an  index  to  the 
true  mental  condition,  the  same  writer  thinks  Shakespeare's  con- 
clusions, from  the  words  he  places  in  the  mouth  of  Hamlet,  at  least 
doubtful  as  to  accuracy. 

The  pulse  in  mania  averages  about  fifteen  beats  above  that  of 
health ;  that  of  the  insane  generally,  including  maniacs,  only  aver- 
ages nine  beats  above  the  healthy  standard,  while  the  pulse  in  mel- 
ancholia and  monomania  is  not  above  the  average. 

There  had  been  an  interview  l)etween  Hamlet  and  his  mother  be- 


86  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

fore  the  passage  before  quoted,  and  wliich  gave  rise  to  it — namely-, 
the  times  at  which  he  professed  to  have  talked  with  the  ghost  as 
below  detailed : 

Hamlet.  "  A  king  of  shreds  and  patches. — Save  me,  and  hover 
o'er  me  with  your  wings,  you  heavenly  guards! — What  would  j'ou, 
gracious  figure? 

Queen.     Alas!  he's  mad. 

Hamlet.  Do  you  not  come  your  tardy  son  to  chide,  that,  laps'd 
in  fume  and  passion,  lets  go  by  th'  important  acting  of  your  dread 
command?     O,  say! 

Ghost.  Do  not  forget.  This  visitation  is  but  to  whet  thy  almost 
blunted  purpose.  But,  look!  amazement  on  thy  mother  sits:  O, 
step  between  her  and  her  fighting  soul ;  conceit  in  weakest  bodies 
strongest  works.     Speak  to  her,  Hamlet. 

Hamlet.     How  is  it  with  you,  lady? 

Queen.  Alas!  how  is't  with  you,  that  you  do  bend  your  eyes  on 
vacancy,  and  with  th'  incorporal  air  do  hold  discourse?  forth  at 
your  eyes  your  spirits  wildly  peep  ;  and,  as  the  sleeping  soldiers  in 
th'  alarm,  your  bedded  hair,  like  life  in  excrements,  starts  up,  and 
stands  on  end.  O  gentle  son !  Upon  the  heat  and  flame  of  thy 
distemper  sprinkle  cool  patience.     Where  on  do  you  look? 

Hamlet.  On  him,  on  him!  Look  you,  how  pale  he  glares!  His 
form  and  cause  conjoin'd,  pleading  to  stones,  would  make  them 
capable. — Do  not  look  upon  me ;  lest  with  this  piteous  action  you 
convert  my  stern  effects:  then,  what  I  have  to  do  will  want  true 
color ;  tears,  perchance,  for  blood. 

Queen.     To  whom  do  you  speak  thus? 

Hamlet.     Do  you  see  nothing  there? 

Queen.     Nothing  at  all ;  yet  all  that  is,  I  see. 

Hamlet.     Did  you  nothing  hear? 

Queen.     No,  nothing  but  ourselves. 

Hamlet.  Why,  look  you  there !  look  how  it  steals  away !  My 
father,  in  his  habit  as  he  liv'd!  Look,  where  he  goes,  even  now. 
out  at  the  [)ortal !  "     (Exit  Ghost. J 

Hamlet  liad  doubtless  been  greatly  excited  by  his  father's  death; 
doubly  so,  perhaps,  by  the  "  deep  damnation  of  his  taking  off,"  and 
was,  therefore,  in  a  fit  mental  capacity  to  "  see  visions  and  dream 
dreams,"  and  his  scene  with  his  father's  ghost  is  but  an  example  of 
thousands  of  occurrences  which  liave  taken  place  in  all  periods  of 
the  world's  history,  and  of  the  realities  of  which  the  beholders  have 
never  entertained  a  doubt. 


rsYCHoroGY.  87 

Hippolj'te  in  "  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  "  f^sures  us,  that 
the  "  lunatic,  the  lover  and  the  poet  are  of  imagination  all  compact: 
one  sees  more  devils  than  vast  hell  can  hold  ;  that  is  the  mad  man." 
These  devils  were  seen  particularly  by  those  religious  fanatics  and 
mad  men  so  common  to  the  historic  period  not  very  remote  from  the 
daj-s  in  which  Shakespeare  wrote.  Spectres  of  this  character  are 
not  now  so  common  among  the  insane. 

The  following  narrative  from  DeBoismont  is  analogous  to  the 
vision  of  Hamlet.  He  says:  "we  owe  to  a  very  eminent  physician 
of  acknowledged  reputation,  and  intimate  with  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
the  recital  of  a  fact,  that  once  occurred  to  a  well  known  personage, 
which  is,  without  contradiction,  one  of  the  most  curious  examples 
that  can  be  offered  in  the  histor}^  of  hallucinations. 

The  phj'sician  was,  by  chance,  called  on  to  attend  a  man,  now 
long  deceased,  who,  during  his  life,  filled  an  important  office  in  a 
particular  department  of  justice.  His  functions  made  him  fre- 
quently an  arbiter  of  the  interests  of  others ;  his  conduct  was 
therefore  open  to  public  observation,  and  for  a  series  of  years  he  en- 
joj'^ed  a  reputation  for  uncommon  firmness,  good  sense,  and  integrity. 

At  the  time  when  the  physician  visited  him,  he  kept  his  room, 
sometimes  his  bed,  and  yet  he  continued,  now  and  then,  to  engage 
in  the  duties  of  his  office ;  his  mind  displayed  its  usual  force  and 
habitual  energy  in  directing  the  business  which  devolved  on  him. 
A  superficial  observer  would  not  have  noticed  anything  indicative 
of  a  weakness  or  oppression  of  mind. 

The  external  symptoms  announced  no  acute  or  alarming  illness  ; 
but  the  slowness  of  his  pulse,  the  failure  of  his  appetite,  a  painful 
digestion,  and  an  unceasing  sadness,  appeared  to  have  their  source 
in  some  cause  which  the  invalid  was  resolved  to  conceal.  The 
gloomy  air  of  the  unhappy  man,  the  embarrassment  which  he  could 
not  disguise,  the  constraint  with  which  he  replied  briefly  to  the  ques- 
tions of  the  physician,  induced  the  latter  to  apply  to  his  family,  who 
could  not  give  him  any  satisfactory  information.  The  physician 
then  had  recourse  to  arguments  calculated  to  make  a  strong  impres- 
sion on  the  mind  of  the  patient.  He  pointed  out  the  folly  of 
devoting  himself  to  a  slow  death  rather  than  communicate  the  secret 
of  the  grief  which  was  dragging  him  to  the  grave.  Al)Ove  all,  he 
represented  the  injury  he  was  inflicting  on  his  own  reputation,  by 
creating  a  suspicion  that  the  cause  of  his  affliction,  and  the  conse- 
quences resulting,  were  of  too  disgraceful  a  nature  to  be  owned; 


88  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

and  added,  that  he  would  bequeath  to  his  family  a  suspected  and 
dishonored  name,  and  leave  a  memory  to  which  would  be  attached 
the  idea  of  some  crime,  which  he  dared  not  own,  even  in  his  dying 
hour. 

This  latter  argument  made  more  impression  than  any  which  had 
been  previously  started,  and  he  expressed  a  desire  to  unbosom  him- 
self frankly  to  the  doctor.  They  were  left  together,  the  door  of 
the  sick  man's  room  was  carefully  closed,  and  he  began  his  confes- 
sion in  the  following  manner  : — 

"You  cannot,  my  dear  friend,  be  more  convinced  than  myself, 
of  the  death  that  threatens  me ;  but  you  cannot  comprehend  the 
nature  of  the  disease,  nor  the  manner  in  which  it  acts  upon  me ; 
and  even  if  you  could,  I  doubt  if  either  your  zeal  or  your  talents 
could  cure  me." 

"It  is  possible,"  replied  the  physician,  "that  my  talents 
would  not  be  equal  to  the  desire  I  have  to  be  useful  to  you, 
but  medical  science  has  many  resources,  which  only  those  who 
have  studied  can  appreciate.  However,  unless  you  clearly  describe 
your  symptoms,  it  is  impossible  to  say  whether  it  is  in  my  power, 
or  in  that  of  medicine,  to  relieve  you." 

"I  assure  you,"  replied  the  patient,  "that  my  situation  is  not 
unique,  for  there  is  a  similar  example  in  the  celebrated  romance  of 
Le  Sage.  Without  doubt,  you  remember  by  what  disease  the  Duke 
of  Olivares  died  ?  He  was  overcome  by  the  idea  that  he  was  followed 
by  an  apparition,  in  whose  existence  he  did  not  believe ;  and  he 
died  because  the  presence  of  this  vision  conquered  his  strength  and 
broke  his  heart.  Well,  my  dear  doctor,  mine  is  a  similar  case  ;  and 
the  vision  that  persecutes  me  is  so  painful  and  so  frightful,  that  my 
reason  is  quite  inadequate  to  combat  the  effects  of  a  frenzied  imag- 
ination, and  I  feel  that  I  shall  die,  the  victim  of  an  imaginary 
malady." 

The  physician  attentivelj'  listened,  and  judiciously  abstained  from 
any  contradiction  ;  he  contented  himself  with  asking  for  more  cir- 
cumstantial details  of  the  nature  of  the  apparition  that  persecuted 
him,  and  the  manner  in  which  so  singular  an  affection  had  seized  on 
his  imagination,  which,  it  would  appear,  a  very  moderate  exercise 
of  understanding  would  have  succeeded  in  destroj'ing. 

The  patient  replied  that  the  attack  had  been  gradual,  and  that,  in 
the  commencement,  it  was  neither  terrible  nor  very  unpleasant; 
and  that  the  progress  of  his  sufferings  was  as  follows : — 


PSYCHOLOGY.  89 

•'  My  visions,"  said  he,  "  began  two  or  three  years  ago.  I  was 
then  annoyed  by  the  presence  of  a  great  cat,  whicli  came  and  dis- 
appeared I  knew  not  how  ;  but  I  did  not  continue  long  in  doubt,  for 
I  perceived  that  this  domestic  animal  was  the  result  of  a  vision  pro- 
duced by  a  derangement  in  the  organs  of  sight,  or  of  the  imagination. 
At  the  end  of  a  few  months,  the  cat  disappeared,  and  was  succeeded 
by  a  phantom  of  a  higher  grade,  and  whose  exterior  was,  at  least, 
more  imposing.  It  was  no  other  than  a  gentleman  usher,  dressed 
as  though  he  was  in  the  service  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland, 
or  of  a  great  functionary  of  the  church,  or  of  any  other  person  of 
rank  or  dignity.  This  character,  in  a  court-dress,  with  big  bag  wig, 
a  sword  by  his  side,  a  vest  worked  in  tambour,  and  achapeau-brass, 
glided  by  my  side  like  the  shade  of  beau  Nash.  Whether  in  my 
own  house,  or  elsewhere,  he  mounted  the  stairs  before  me,  as  if  to 
announce  me.  Sometimes  he  mixed  in  with  the  company,  although 
it  was  evident  no  one  ever  remarked  his  presence,  and  that  I  alone 
witnessed  the  chimerical  honors  he  paid  me. 

This  caprice  of  imagination  did  not  make  a  strong  impression  on 
me ;  but  it  raised  a  question  as  to  the  nature  of  the  disease,  and  I 
began  to  fear  the  effects  it  might  have  on  my  senses.  After  a  few 
months,  my  gentleman-usher  was  no  more  seen,  but  was  replaced 
by  a  phantom  horrible  to  the  sight,  and  disgusting  to  the  mind, — a 
skeleton." 

"Alone,  or  in  society,"  added  the  unfortunate  man,  "  this  ap- 
parition never  leaves  me.  It  is  in  vain  that  I  repeat  to  myself 
that  it  has  no  reality,  that  it  is  but  an  illusion  caused  by  the  de- 
rangement of  my  sight,  or  a  disordered  imagination.  Of  what  use 
are  such  reflections,  when  the  presage  and  the  emblem  of  death  is 
constantly  Ijefore  mj^  e3'^es?  when  I  see  myself,  although  only  in 
my  imagination,  forever  the  companion  of  a  phantom  representing 
the  gloomy  inhabitant  of  the  tomb,  whilst  I  am  still  upon  earth? 
Neither  science,  philosophy,  nor  even  religion,  has  a  remedy  for 
such  a  disease  ;  and  I  too  truly  feel  that  I  shall  die  this  cruel  death, 
although  I  have  no  faith  in  the  reality  of  the  spectre  that  is  always 
present." 

'•  It  would  appear  then,"  said  the  physician,  "  that  this  skeleton 
is  ever  before  you." 

"  It  is  my  hapless  destiny  to  see  it  always,"  replied  the  sick  man. 

"  In  this  case,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  you  see  it  now?  " 

"Yes." 


90 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


"  In  what  part  of  the  room  does  it  appear  to  you?" 

"  At  the  foot  of  my  bed;  when  the  curtains  are  a  little  open,  it 
places  itself  between  them,  and  fills  the  opening." 

"You  say  that  you  understand  it  to  be  only  an  illusion? — In 
dreams  we  are  frequently  aware  that  the  apparition  that  freezes  us 
with  fear  is  false ;  but  we  cannot,  nevertheless,  overcome  the  terror 
that  oppresses  us.  Have  you  firmness  enough  to  be  positively  con- 
vinced? Can  you  rise,  and  take  the  place  which  the  spectre  appears 
to  occupy,  in  order  to  assure  yourself  that  it  is  a  real  illusion?  " 

The  poor  man  sighed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  she  doctor,  "  we  will  try  another  plan."  He 
quitted  the  chair  on  which  he  had  been  seated,  at  the  head  of  the 
bed,  and  placing  himself  between  the  open  curtains,  in  the  spot 
pointed  out  as  being  the  place  occupied  by  the  apparition,  he  en- 
quired if  the  skeleton  was  yet  visible. 

"Much  less,  because  you  are  between  it  and  me,  but  I  see  the 
skull  over  your  shoulder." 


It   is   said  that,  in  spite  of  his  philosophy,  the  learned  doctor 
shuddered  at  the  thought  of  an  ideal  spectre  behind  him. 
The  i)aticnt  perished,  a  victim  of  this  hallucination. 
I  quote  this  lengthy  paper    to   show  with  what  fidelity  Shake- 


PSYCHOLOGY.  91 

speare  drew  the  picture  of  hallucination  in  the  case  of  Hatolet. 
Whether  his  intuitive  perceptions  gave  him  the  power  of  description, 
or  did  personal  observation,  or  an  idea  gained  from  reading  the 
details  of  an  analogous  case,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conjecture ;  certain  it 
is,  however,  that  it  is  masterly  in  its  portraiture,  be  the  origin  what 
it  might.  The  analogy  is  even  borne  out  in  the  similarity  of  the 
vague  fear  which  haunted  the  Queen,  even  in  the  presence  of  Ham- 
let, and  that  which  startled  the  learned  doctor  when  the  skeleton 
peeped  over  his  shoulder.  Ghost.  "But,  look!  Amazement  on 
thy  mother  sits:  O,  step  between  her  and  her  fighting  soul." 
(^Frightened  soul.) 

It  appears  from  the  observations  of  high  authoritj'  upon  hallu- 
cinations that  they  are  "  never  an  expression  of  an  aroused  activity 
of  the  psychic  sphere,  but  on  the  contrary  are  indications  of  the 
exhaustion  of  the  same.  i.  e.,  of  the  cortex  of  the  anterior  part  of 
the  brain." 

This  was  eminently  the  condition  of  the  overworked  patient  of 
which  mention  is  made  by  De  Boismont.  Hamlet's  mental  condition 
was  also  no  doubt  one  in  which  exhaustion  played  an  important  part, 
as  the  exciting  incidents  connected  with  the  murder  of  his  father 
were  sufficient  to  make  apparent. 

The  passage  in  regard  to  the  illness  of  King  John  so  often  quoted 
by  medical  writers  —  "It  is  too  late;  the  life  of  all  his  blood  is 
touch' d  corruptibly  ;  and  his  pure  brain  (which  some  suppose  the 
soul's  fair  dwelling-house,)  doth  by  the  idle  comments  that  it  makes, 
foretell  the  ending  of  mortality,"  is  inimitable — unsurpassed,  as  a 
description  of  the  muttering  delirium  common  to  low  forms  of 
fever,  etc.,  but  its  notice  belongs  more  to  the  physician  than  to  the 
psychatriatist  proper.  It  appears  that  when  we  regard"  mind  as 
onl}'  the  offspring  or  result  of  matter  possessing  certain  properties 
of  composition,  consistence,  form,  etc.,  that  we  must  expect  that 
when  these  are  in  any  way  changed  we  must  have  change  also  in  the 
thing  which  is  produced — a  change  in  the  mental  phenomena. 

If  the  muscular  and  nervous  mechanism  of  tlie  arm  is  impaired, 
motion  (the  results  of  the  mechanism)  is  also  impaired.  If  the 
lesion  in  either  the  brain  or  in  the  arm  is  susceptible  of  repair  and 
their  meclianism  is  made  good  in  all  its  parts,  then  tlie  work  per- 
formed must  be  normal.  One  broad  line  of  distinction  then  between 
delirium  and  acute  mania,  etc.,  and  the  other  forms  of  insanity,  rests 
in  the  fact  that  the  brain  is  only  temporarily  eml)arrassed  in  its  work- 


A. 


92  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN 

ings,  by  agents  acting  through  the  general  system,  in  the  one  case, 
while  in  the  other  the  lesion  is  specifically  organic.  Of  course  there 
are  many  of  the  former  class  of  cases  which  go  still  farther — farther 
than  a  mere  limited  intoxication  of  the  senses, — as  in  mania  a  potu, 
for  example.  When  these  cases  go  to  the  extreme,  then  of  course 
they  are  subjects  of  proper  psychological  research.  The  assertion 
however  of  the  king's  attendant  that  it  was  "  too  late  "  was  not  well 
founded  when  predicated  upon  the  fact  of  the  "  idle  comments  " 
alone,  because  although  always  a  grave  symptom  if  it  occurs  early 
and  is  persistent,  yet  it  is  not  accompanied  in  the  mind  of  the 
physician  with  that  absolutely  fatal  prognostication  entertained  by 
those  who  surrounded  the  king.  Shakespeare  makes  a  mistake  also, 
it  is  thought,  in  attributing  this  kind  of  mental  aberration  to  King- 
John,  because  delirium  is  not  commonly  present  in  the  malady  of 
which  he  was  dying.  Typhoid  and  typhus  fevers  are  the  maladies 
in  which  such  delirium  is  most  prominently  and  commonly  noticed. 
In  pernicious  fever,  from  which  King  John  must  have  died,  as  the 
symptomotology  as  given  in  another  chapter  clearly  points,  there 
is  sometimes,  at  the  very  close,  a  muttering  of  many  words,  but 
they  are  commonly  coherent  and  the  offspring  apparently  of  an 
unclouded  intellect.  I  recall  to  mind  the  death  of  a  very  old  man 
with  a  congestive  chill,  who  at  the  last  moments  repeated  in  a 
prayerful,  chanting  tone  common  to  the  church  service  of  the  sect 
to  which  he  belonged,  the  words,  "I'm  a  g'wine  to  die.  O!  my 
friends,  in  youth  is  the  time  to  prepare!  " — the  peculiar  intonation 
of  which  might  readily  have  lead  a  non-professional  person  to  have 
said  he  was  "  not  in  his  right  mind."  It  is  claimed  by  the  drama- 
tist also,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  chapter  referred  to  further  on  in  this 
work,  thiftthe  king  had  been  poisoned  —  a  conclusion  it  is  thought 
wholly  untenable.     (See  King  John,  A.  v.,  Sc.  vi.) 

It  is  however  indeed  wonderful  to  note  the  accuracy  of  Shake- 
speare's knowledge  even  in  the  medical  thought  contained  in  the 
above  short  quotation.  "  The  life  of  all  his  blood  is  touch'd  cor- 
ruptibly," and  from  this  fact  (constitutionally,  and  not  from  a  local 
brain  lesion )  makes  he  the  muttering  and  illogical  talk !  Who 
besides  this  master  intellect  could  have  so  accurately  deduced  proper 
symptoms  from  such  hypothecated  premises?  He  was  even  versed 
in  the  scientific  use  of  the  imagination. 

The  parenthetical  clause  "and  his  pure  brain  (which  some  sup- 
pose the    soul's  frail  dwelling-house),"  contains  too  much  of  the 


rSYCHOLOGY.  93 

profoundl}'  metaphysical  to  admit  of  ordinary  minds  descanting 
profitably  upon  it.  Briefl}' ,  however,  it  may  l)e  said  that  from  our 
materialistic  views  we  see  therein  as  much  logic,  and  a  doctrine 
which  to  us  offers  as  much  consolation,  as  any  ever  advanced  upon 
the  subject  of  the  soul.  We  can  see  nothing  in  man — no  trait  or 
attribute  which  answers  to  the  principle  of  what  people  call  "  soul  " 
except  the  attribute — mind. 

As  to  the  immortality  of  that  manifestation,  I  think  the  motion  of 
my  arm  just  as  probable  of  everlasting  preservation.  Indeed  this 
is  the  doctrine  of  the  age — force  is  eternal. 

One  finale  awaits  the  man  and  all  his  attributes. 

"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  A.  ii.,  S.  iii.,  has  this  language: 

Romeo.     "  Good-morrow,  father. 

Friar.  Benedicite ! 

What  early  tongue  so  sweetly  saluteth  me? — 
Young  son,  It  argues  a  distemper' d  head, 
So  soon  to  bid  good-morrow  to  your  bed : 
Care  keeps  his  watch  in  every  old  man's  eye. 
And  where  care  lodges,  sleep  will  never  lie  ; 
But  where  unbusied  youth,  with  unstuff' d  brain 
Doth  couch  his  limbs,  there  golden  sleep  doth  reign." 

The  observation  of  Friar  Laurence  in  the  present  case  is  verj' 
accurate  indeed  as  to  the  first  paragraph,  for  it  is  a  fact  borne  out 
by  observation,  that  of  all  the  passions,  love  is  most  potent  to  cause 
sleepless  nights.  A  man  may  hate,  but  he  will  sleep  to-night  and 
hate  again  to-morrow  ;  he  may  gei  angry  or  sorry,  and  yet  tired 
nature's  sweet  restorer  folds  him  in  her  embrace,  and  woos  him  to 
present  forgetfulness ;  grief,  remorse,  despair,  envy,  jealousy,  all 
find  repose  in  balmy  sleep  ;  but  a  bad  case  of  "  mash  "  never! 

It  does  not  occur  to  us,  however,  that  the  residue  of  the  good  Friar's 
philosophy  is  of  that  profound  quality  which  engenders  unbounded 
admiration  in  us.  It  is  not  care  which  renders  the  old  man  sleep- 
less, but  a  true  pathological  change  in  the  structure  of  the  brain — 
in  the  vessels  particularly, — and  perhaps  also  to  a  greater  or  less 
degree  in  all  the  tissues  of  the  organ.  The  lack  of  tonicity  in  the 
vascular  walls  allows  the  blood  currents  to  become  sluggish — the 
brain  never  becoming  emptied  sufficiently  to  approach  the  anaemic 
condition  essential  to  normal  sleep.  In  the  concluding  lines  of  the 
quotation,  where  he  speaks  of  the  unstuff' d  brain  of  youth,  he  un- 


94  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

doubtedly  in  his  language  strikes  tlie  true  phj'siologicai  condition  of 
tlie  brain  in  sleep  with  all  the  accuracy  incident  to  the  most  advanced 
investigation  ;  but  unfortunately  his  ideas  applied  to  the  tJioiight  which 
stuffed  the  organ  and  not  to  the  blood  that  loaded  its  vessels.  Yet 
it  must  be  admitted  that  the  two  conditions  are  inseparably  associated. 
The  picture  is  very  skillfully  drawn,  however,  if  we  look  at  it  even 
through  professional  spectacles  alone.  In  the  aged,  besides  the 
change  in  the  vessels  of  the  brain  and  the  hyperemia  incident 
thereto,  we  have  a  lack  of  activity  in  the  whole  system  which  favors 
the  local  stasis  in  the  brain — the  blood  not  being  called  away  from  that 
organ.  The  organic  functions  are  apathetic  and  need  only  a  limited 
and  passive  supply  for  their  slowly  moving  existence.  Typical  of 
this  fact,  let  us  take  the  stomach  and  note  what  an  influence  it  has 
upon  this  brain  function — upon  sleep.  Immediatelj'^  after  a  hearty 
dinner  we  feel  sleepy,  because  the  unusual  blood  supply  necessary 
to  aid  the  stomach  in  the  performance  of  its  task  of  digestion 
unloads  the  brain.  In  the  old  even  this  function  is  so  impaired, 
commonly,  that  its  beneficial  effects  are  measurably  lost. 

The  following  conversation  between  Brutus  and  Cassius  explains 
itself : 

Cassius.     "  I  did  not  think  you  could  have  been  so  angry. 

Brutus.     O,  Cassius !   I  am  sick  of  my  many  griefs. 

Cassius.  Of  your  philosophy  you  make  no  use,  if  you  give 
place  to  accidental  evils. 

Brutus.     No  man  bears  sorrow  better. — Portia  is  dead. 

Cassius.     Ha !     Portia  ? 

Brutus.     She  is  dead. 

Cassius.  How  'scap'd  I  killing,  when  I  cross'd  you  so? — O,  in- 
supportable and  touching  loss! — Upon  what  sickness.? 

Brutxis.  Impatient  of  my  absence,  and  grief  that  young  Octavius 
with  Mark  Antony  have  made  themselves  so  strong ; — for  with  her 
death  that  tidings  camo. — With  this  she  fell  distract,  and,  her 
attendants  absent,  swallow'd  fire. 

Cassius.     And  died  so? 

Brutus.     Even  so. 

Cassius.     O,  ye  immortal  gods!  " 

The  period  in  Roman  liistory  in  which  the  above  purports  to  have 
occurred  is  known  as  "  the  period  of  civil  wars" — an  era  in  which 
domestic  strife,  rapine  and  bloodshed  held  high  carnival.     Csesar 


PSYCHOLOGY.  95 

had  been  assassinated  in  tlie  Senate  chamber  by  the  conspirators 
headed  by  Cassius  and  Brutus,  and  they  in  turn  were  pushed  to  the 
wall  by  young  Octavius,  nephew  of  the  murdered  Ciesar,  all  of 
which  no  doubt  told  fearfully  on  the  body  and  mind  of  Portia,  the 
wife  of  Brutus, — she  seeming  to  entertain  for  him  the  most  ardent 
affection.  The  mental  organization  of  women  makes  them  mostly 
subject  to  that  form  of  insanity  known  as  "  emotional,"  and  the 
strange  freaks  which  sometimes  seize  upon  their  crazied  imagination 
will  cause  them  to  attempt  to  "  eat  fire"  or  do  any  other  unaccount- 
able thing.  This  is  certainly  an  original  way,  however,  of  commit- 
ting suicide.  Some  of  these  poor  creatures  have  curious  notions 
of  ways  in  which  to  "  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil," — the  leaping 
into  the  fathomless  mass  of  seething  lava  which  constitutes  the  ter- 
rors of  Vesuvius,  or  the  fearful  plunge  over  the  falls  of  Niagara, 
seem  to  meet  the  fastidious  notions  of  some  of  these  unfortunates, 
whose  life  has  proven  a  failure.  What  is  the  difference,  after  all, 
between  either  of  these  modes,  on  the  one  hand,  or  by  the  explosion 
of  an  oil  can  or  the  drowning  in  a  duck  puddle  on  the  other? 

The  final  cataclysm  in  which  the  universe  goes  to  wreck,  if  such 
an  occurrence  should  ever  occur,  will  be  no  worse  to  bear  by  the 
single  individual  than  is  the  death  in  a  rail-road  horror. 

We  find  some  thoughts  on  normal  mental  phenomena  in  various 
places  in  Shakespeare's  writings,  among  others  the  boastful  lan- 
guage of  the  pedagogue  Holof ernes,  in  "  Love's  Labor's  Lost,"  in 
which  instance  he  enumerates  his  special  talents,  and  claims  that 
"  these  are  begot  in  the  ventricle  of  memory,  nourished  in  the  womb 
of  pia  mater,  and  delivered  upon  the  mellowing  of  occasion." 

The  term  "  begot  in  the  ventricle  of  memory"  is  not  scientifically 
correct ; — the  conception  as  to  the  locality  of  the  registering  por- 
tion of  the  brain  being  at  fault ; — as  is  also  the  idea  that  ' '  memory ' ' 
is  *' begot"  in  the  brain.  Strictly  speaking,  memory  is  originated 
outside  of  the  brain — that  is,  it  is  a  recurrence  of  the  mind  to  an 
external  fact,  the  recognition  of  which  has  at  some  time  in  the  past 
been  registered  in  the  ganglia,  and  has,  perhaps,  remained  dormant 
until  some  similar  fact  or  circumstance  brushed  the  dust  of  time 
from  the  record,  and  presented  it  again  to  the  eye  of  the  mind. — 
When,  in  reality,  it  is  "delivered  upon  the  mellowing  of  occasion." 

The  dramatist  came  very  near  the  truth  however,  in  the  place 
where  he  says  of  thowjht  that  it  is  nourished  in  the  womb  of  pia 
mater.     Modern  research  has  established  it  as  a  fact  that  the  portion 


96  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

of  the  brain  in  immediate  proximity  to  the  pia  mater — the  convo- 
lutions— are  really  the  seat  of  intellection, — thus  rendering  it  prob- 
able that  the  pabulum  from  which  thought  or  the  power  to  think  is 
furnished  is  derived  from  the  pia  mater,  at  least,  in  part. 

"  Not  sick,  my  lord,  unless  it  be  in  mind,"  says  Salanio  in  "The 
Merchant  of  Venice."  Sick  in  mind!  lam  persuaded  that  men- 
tal suffering  in  this  world  greatly  over  aggregates  that  of  physical ; 
and  he  who  has  not  chanced  to  experience  their  relative  powers, 
has  so  far  escaped  misfortune.  "  Too  much  sadness  hath  congealed 
your  blood,"  and  "  melancholy  is  the  nurse  of  frenzy,"  are  found 
in  the  same  drama.  It  is  true  that  melancholy  does  often  precede 
active  mania,  but  that  sadness  lowers  the  temperature  of  the  blood 
is  only  true  figuratively.  The  power  that  mental  suffering  has  over 
the  physical  well-being  of  an  individual  is  very  well  pictured  in 
"The  Winter's  Tale." 

"Conceiving  the  dishonor  of  his  mother,  he  straight  declin'd, 
droop' d,  took  it  deeply,  fasten' d  and  fix'd  the  shame  on't  in  him- 
self, threw  off  his  spirit,  his  appetite,  his  sleep,  and  downright 
languish' d."  Here  we  have  another  excellent  pen-picture  of  a 
troubled  mind,  where  "thick-coming  fancies  kept  him  from  his 
rest."  As  William  Cullen  Bryant  said  some  years  ago,  in  his  ad- 
dress at  the  unvailing  of  the  statue  of  the  "  bard  of  Stratford"  in 
Central  Park,  New  York, — "What  a  physician  might  he  not  have 
made  to  an  insane  asylum  !" 

Bearing  upon  the  same  point  as  the  matter  quoted  last  above,  we 
find  numerous  lines  and  phrases  : 

"Thy  father's  beard  is  turned  white  with  the  news,"  in  Henrj^ 
the  Fourth ;  while  in  Henry  the  Sixth  we  find  the  mental  infirmities 
of  senility  compared  to  mania, — evidently  an  assertion  of  the  right 
to  latitude  which  is  always  granted  to  fictionists. 

The  enquiry  "  what  madness  rules  in  brain-sick  men,"  "sure  the 
man  is  mad,"  "  brain-sick  duchess,"  etc.,  is  also  found  in  the  sixth 
Henry,  part  second.  "  My  hair  be  fix'd  on  end  as  one  distract," 
is  also  used  in  same ; — an  idea,  by  the  way,  that  is  universal.  How 
often  do  we  hear  the  term — "  My  hair  lifted  my  hat  from  my  head," 
as  descriptive  of  horror  or  excessive  fright.  There  is  certainly 
some  foundation  for  the  sensation — possibly  a  contraction  of  the 
muscular  structures  of  the  scalp,  or  may  be  a  congestion  of  its 
capillary  circulation,  or  some  other  condition  made  upon  the  parts 
through  the  medium  of  the  nervous  apparatus — analogous  to  that 


PSYCHOLOGY.  97 

of  suffusion  of  the  face  in  blushing  for  example.  The  hair  does 
really  assume  a  more  or  less  erectile  condition ;  we  see  its  analogue 
in  animals — the  dog  and  cat  especially,  when  they  turn  their  hair 
the  wrong  way,  in  the  condition  of  affright,  and  also  of  anger. 

The  term  "brain-sick"  is  also  used  in  "  Troilus  and  Cressida  " 
and  in  "  Titus  Andronicus,"  whilst  in  the  former  it  is  asserted 
that  "  extremity  of  griefs  do  make  men  mad  " — a  declaration  which 
it  has  been  the  misfortune  of  thousands  to  see  verified.  A  graphic 
description  of  a  "tainted"  mind  is  given  by  Lady  Percy7  in 
Henry  IV.,  A.  ii.,  S.  ii. :  "  O,  my  good  lord,  why  are  you  thus 
alone?  For  what  offence  have  I  this  fortnight  been  a  banish' d 
woman  from  my  Harry's  bed?  Tell  me,  sweet  love,  what  is 't 
takes  from  thee  thy  stomach,  pleasure  and  thy  golden  sleep?  Why 
dost  thou  bend  thine  eyes  upon  the  earth,  and  start  so  often  when 
thou  sit'st  alone?  Why  hast  thou  lost  the  fresh  blood  in  thy  cheek, 
and  given  my  treasure,  and  my  right  of  thee,  to  thick-ey'd  musing 
and  curs' d  melancholy?" 

Percy  was  a  political  and  military  schemer,  and  scrupled  not, 
like  all  of  his  class,  to  go  into  any  game,  however  hazardous,  pro- 
vided he  had  a  show  to  win.  It  was  upon  the  eve  of  an  important 
enterprise  that  his  wife  addressed  him  in  the  language  above. 

In  "Troilus  and  Cressida"  it  is  said  that  "with  too  much 
blood  and  too  little  brain  these  two  may  run  mad ;  but  if  with  too 
much  brain  and  too  little  blood  they  do,  I  will  be  a  curer  of  mad 
men."  Here  we  have  an  error  in  supposition,  as  it  is  not  "  little  " 
brains  that  "run  mad,"  though  "plethora"  be  present  by  the 
barrel.  Too  much  brain  and  too  little  blood  are  much  more  favor- 
able conditions  for  such  an  occurrence,  though  Shakespeare  seems 
not  to  so  regard  it ;  it  seems  that  to  the  feeble  intellect  and  plethora 
he  looks  for  his  causation  in  the  instance  before  us.  He  tells  us 
himself  in  "  Cymbeline  "  that  "  Fools  are  not  mad  folks." 

As  to  the  mental  condition  of  King  Lear,  I  cannot  view  his  ec- 
centric railings  as  the  acts  of  a  mad  man,  but  rather  as  freaks  in 
the  harrassed  mind  of  one  possessed  naturally  of  a  large  degree  of 
senile  asceticism.     He  was  by  nature  a  cynic. 

This  is  evidently  the  view  taken  of  the  father's  condition  by  both 
Goneril  and  Regan.  The  latter  says  to  him  on  an  occasion  of  his 
having  had  some  harsh  language  toward  her  sister:  "  O,  sir!  you 
are  old  ;  Nature  stands  in  you  on  the  very  verge  of  her  confine :  you 
should  be  rul'd  and  led  by  some  discretion,  that  discerns  your  state 


98  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

better  than  yourself,"  while  the  former  at  another  time  tells  him: 
"All's  not  offense  that  indiscretion  finds,  and  dotage  terms  so." 
Though  later  on  in  their  relations,  and  when  their  intolerance  of 
their  father  and  his  retinue  of  an  hundred  revelous  retainers  had 
rendered  their  quarrel  with  him  very  bitter,  they  do  not  hesitate  to 
use  such  terms  toward  him  as  "to  whose  hands  have  you  sent  the 
lunatic  king,"  and  even  his  own  friends  who  were  often  witnesses 
of  his  maledictions  could  not,  sometimes,  but  think  him  mad.  He 
was  ANGRY,  but  not  insane  ;  and  these  declarations  of  his  daughters 
were  not  their  real  sentiments,  but  were  only  used  by  them  to  show 
the  extremity  of  their  bitter  resentment  toward  him.  We  note  this 
idea  of  morbid-mind  in  the  language  of  Gloster:  "Come  hither, 
friend:  where  is  the  king,  my  master?"  Kent:  "Here,  sir;  but 
trouble  him  not;  his  wits  are  gone;"  and  Cordelia  also  says  on 
meeting  him  after  her  short  stay  in  France :  "  Alack !  'tis  he :  why, 
he  was  met  even  now  as  mad  as  the  vex'd  sea:  singing  aloud,"  etc., 
while,  in  description  of  some  of  his  sarcastic  philippics,  Edgar, another 
of  his  friends,  says:  "  O,  matter  and  impertinency  mix'd ;  reason 
in  madness ! ' ' 

Lear  was  old — eighty  years  and  more,  according  to  his  own  declara- 
tion, and  to  one  who  will  study  closely  all  he  says  it  will  be  seen 
that  much  of  profound  thought  and  little  of  mental  alienation  is  ap- 
parent in  what  he  says.  Take  this  passage  for  example,  which 
occurs  toward  the  close  of  his  life,  and  judge  whether  it  sounds  like 
the  utterance  of  one  whose  mind  is  in  abeyance:  "A  dog's  obey'd 
, in  office."  "Through  tattered  clothes  small  vices  do  appear;  robes 
and  furr'd  gowns  hide  all.  Plate  sin  with  gold,  and  the  strong 
lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks:  arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw 
doth  pierce  it."  His  integrity  of  purpose  as  is  manifested  in  all  he 
says  and  does,  and  the  clear  conceptions  he  has  as  to  the  great  in- 
gratitudes and  lack  of  filial  duties  on  the  part  of  his  daughters,  is 
never  lost  sight  of  even  in  his  wildest  and  most  extravagant  mo- 
ments. The  "  stings  and  sorrows  of  outrageous  fortune  "  could  not 
drive  these  thankless  deeds  from  his  mind,  but  presented  them  to 
him  at  all  times  in  their  real  character  of  undiluted  diabolism.  He 
was  indeed  but  a  "  poor  old  man,  full  of  grief  and  age,"  and  any 
one  of  us  burdened  even  with  fewer  of  the  snows  of  life's  winters, 
placed  under  like  circumstances  would  need  more  than  "  an  ounce 
of  civet"  to  sweeten  our  imaginations,  and  we  needn't  be  crazy 
either.     In  his  most  irrelevant  language  he  is  much  less  the  mad- 


PSYCHOLOGY.  99 

man  than  is  Edgar,  who  openly  declares  that  he  has  assumed  the 
character  of  a  Bedlam  beggar — one  just  out  of  a  mad-house, — for  a 
purpose.  Lear's  distemper  was  but  the  "  unruly  waywardness  that 
infirm  and  choleric  years  bring  with  them.  The  best  and  soundest 
of  his  time  had  been  but  rash." 

After  Lear  had  been  refused  lodging  by  his  daughters,  and  had 
been  by  them  turned  adrift  into  the  night  of  relentless  storm,  his 
sense  of  outraged  justice  reached  its  climax ;  and  from  the  hour  in 
which  he  was  again  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  sympathetic 
soul  of  Cordelia  he  calmly  resigns  himself  to  quietude — resolved, 
as  I  can  see,  to  bother  himself  no  more  over  grievances  he  is  power- 
less to  amend.  Hence  we  find  him  enjoying  the  long  and  refreshing 
sleep  as  appears  in  the  quotation  below : 

'■'■Cordelia.  (^To  the  physician.)     How  does  the  king? 

Doctor.     Madam,  sleeps  still. 

Cordelia.  O,  you  kind  gods,  cure  this  great  breach  in  his  abused 
nature!  Th'  untim'd  and  jarring  senses,  O,  wind  up  of  this  child- 
changed  father ! 

Doctor.  So  please  your  majesty  that  we  may  wake  the  king?  he 
hath  slept  long. 

Cordelia.  Be  govern' d  by  your  knowledge,  and  proceed  i'  the 
sway  of  your  own  will.     Is  he  array 'd? 

Doctor.  Ay,  madam  ;  in  the  heaviness  of  his  sleep  we  put  fresh 
garments  on  him. 

Kent.  Good,  madam,  be  by  when  we  do  awake  him — I  doubt  not 
of  his  temperance. 

Cordelia.     Very  well.  (^Music.) 

Doctor.     Please  you,  draw  near. — Louder  the  music  there. 

Cordelia.  O  my  dear  father!  Restoration,  hang  thy  medicine 
on  my  lips ;  and  let  this  kiss  repair  those  violent  harms,  that  my 
two  sisters  have  in  thy  reverence  made ! . 

Kent.     Kind  and  dear  princess. 

Cordelia.  Had  you  not  been  their  father,  these  white  flakes  had 
challeng'd  pity  of  them.  Was  this  a  face  to  be  expos' d  against 
the  jarring  winds?  to  stand  against  the  deep  dread-bolted  thunder? 
in  the  most  terrible  and  nimble  stroke  of  quick,  cross  lightning?  to 
watch  with  this  thin  helm?     Mine  enemies'  dog  should  not 

Alack,  alack!  'Tis  a  wonder  that  thy  life  and  wits  at  once  had 
not  concluded  all. — He  wakes  ;  speak  to  him. 


100  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Doctor.     Madam,  do  you  ;  'tis  fittest. 

Cordelia.     How  does  my  royal  lord?      How  fares  your  majesty? 

Lear.  You  do  me  wrong,  to  take  me  out  of  the  grave. — Thou 
art  a  soul  in  bliss,  but  I  am  bound  upon  a  wheel  of  fire,  that  mine 
own  tears  do  scald  like  molten  lead. 

Cordelia.     Sir,  do  you  know  me? 

Lear.     You  are  a  spirit,  I  know.     Where  did  you  die? 

Cordelia.     Still,  still,  far  wide. 

Doctor.     He's  scarce  awake:  let  him  alone  awhile. 

Lear.  Where  have  I  been?  where  am  I?  fair  daylight? — I  am 
mightily  abus'd. — I  should  even  die  with  pity  to  see  another  thus. 
I  am  a  very  foolish,  fond  old  man,  four-score  and  upward,  and,  to 
deal  plainly,  I  fear  I  am  not  in  my  perfect  mind.  (^Cordelia  tveeps.) 

Doctor.  Be  comforted,  good  madam :  the  great  rage,  you  see,  is 
cur'd  in  him  ;  and  yet  it  is  danger  to  make  him  even  o'er  the  time 
he  has  lost.  Desire  him  to  go  in:  trouble  him  no  more,  till  farther 
settling. 

Cordelia.     Will't  please  your  highness  walk? 

Lear.  You  must  bear  with  me :  pray  you  now,  forget  and  for- 
give.    I  am  old  and  foolish." 

It  is  perceived  throughout  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  extract  that 
the  paramount  idea  of  every  one — doctor,  Cordelia,  and  even  the 
old  king  himself ,  is  that  "mental  worr;^,"  occasioned  by  the  ill 
usage  received  at  the  hands  of  his  daughters,  constituted  the  sum 
total  of  this  brain  malady — merely  extreme  excitement,  relieved  as 
it  always  is  by  a  quiet  sleep — the  physical  "tire"  occasioned  by 
his  night  of  exposure  and  a  dose  of  opium  doubtless  contributing 
to  that  end.  Refreshing  sleep  is  always  a  favorable  sign  in  the  in- 
sane, but  does  not  by  any  means  always  argue  a  complete  subsidence 
of  the  malady. 

In  none  of  the  other  characters  of  Shakespeare  who  are  by  writers 
considered  in  some  degree  insane,  namely  —  Timon  of  Athens, 
Ophelia,  Constance,  Jaques,  Melvolio,  etc.,  can  I  see  actual  insanity, 
except,  perhaps,  in  the  case  of  Ophelia.  A  close  study  of  these 
characters  will  reveal  the  fact  that  Shakespeare  did  not  intend  or 
essay  the  description  of  insane  persons  in  the  delineation  of  their 
characters  through  their  own  mouths.  In  Timon  we  certainly  find 
an  individual  possessing  a  mental  organization  very  nearly  akin  to 
that  of  Lear,  and  in  whose  freaks  we  see  but  the  form  of  continued 


PSYCHOLOGY.  101 

anger  which  renders  men  misanthropes.  If  mere  eccentricity  and 
oddity  of  character  be  placed  as  insanity,  we  need  hardly  search  for 
the  sane.  Shakespeare's  characters  named  above  very  clearly  be- 
long to  the  class  of  characters  named  by  Lord  Shaftesbury  as 
quoted  by  Bucknill:  "There  is  also  among  these  a  sort  of  hatred 
to  mankind  and  society ;  a  passion  which  has  been  known  perfectly 
reigning  among  some  men,  and  has  had  a  peculiar  name  given  to  it 
— misanthropy.  A  large  share  of  this  belongs  to  those  who  have 
habitually  indulged  themselves  in  moroseness,  or  who,  by  force  of 
ill-nature  and  ill-breeding,  have  contracted  such  a  reverse  of  affa- 
bility, and  civil  manners,  that  to  see  or  meet  a  stranger  is  offensive. 
The  very  aspect  of  mankind  is  a  disturbance  to  them,  and  they  are 
sure  always  to  hate  at  first  sight." 

In  introducing  into  the  pages  of  this  book  those  portions  of 
Shakespeare's  writings  which  pertain  exclusively  to  the  emotions, 
it  is  done  from  consideration  of  the  fact  that  in  their  extremes,  as 
we  here  find  them,  it  is  difficult  to  say  just  where  the  purely  physio- 
logical ends  and  the  psychological  begins.  Shakespeare  himself 
fully  comprehended  this  fact.  He  puts  the  following  words  into 
the  mouth  of  Rosalind :  "  Love  is  merely  a  madness,  and  I  tell  you, 
deserves  as  well  a  dark-house  and  a  whip  as  mad  men  do."  In  the 
above  position  we  are  sustained  by  the  opinions  of  Bucknill,  from 
whose  writings  we  have  before  quoted,  as  he  says  "  no  state  of  the 
reasoning  faculty  can,  by  itself,  be  the  cause  or  condition  of  mad- 
ness ;  congenital  idiocy  and  acquired  dementia  being  alone  ex- 
cepted. The  corollary  of  this  is,  that  emotional  disturbance  is  the 
cause  and  condition  of  insanity.  In  the  prodromic  period  of  the 
disorder  the  emotions  are  always  perverted,  while  the  reason  re- 
mains intact.  Disorders  of  the  intellectual  faculties  are  secondary ; 
they  are  often,  indeed,  to  be  recognized  as  the  morbid  emotions 
transformed  into  perverted  action  of  the  reason ;  but  in  no  case  are 
they  primary  or  essential." 

Among  all  the  emotions  which  are  common  to  the  human  mind, 
there  is  none  which  more  surely  and  swiftly  preys  upon  the  mental 
and  physical  organization  of  man  or  woman  than  the  hideous  mon- 
ster jealous3^  What  other  passion  of  the  mind  could  have  stirred 
with  equal  force  the  stern  and  haughty  soul  of  Othello,  or  have 
aroused  in  an  equal  degree  the  revengeful  ire  of  Leontes?  If 
there  is  one  sentiment  in  the  bosom  of  the  human  family  that  is 
supremely  selfish,  it  is  found  in  the  emotion  known  as  jealousy. 


102  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

In  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  Beatrice,  in  one  of  her  caustic 
conversational  sallies,  uses  the  following  language:  "  The  count  is 
neither  sad,  nor  sick,  nor  merry,  nor  well ;  but  civil,  count,  civil  as 
an  orange,  and  something  of  as  jealous  a  complexion;"  whilst  in 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice  "  the  fair  Portia  is  made  to  say: 

"  How  all  the  other  passions  fleet  to  air, 
As  doubtful  thoughts,  and  rash  embrac'd  despair, 
And  shuddering  fear,  and  green-eyed  jealousy." 

She  was  comparing  the  other  passions  with  love,  and  like  the  female 
world  in  general,  made  it  paramount  to  all  other  human  attributes. 
In  each  of  the  passages  above  noticed,  we  see  the  notion  put  forth 
as  to  the  close  connexion  of  this  passion — jealousy — and  biliary 
derangement,  —  giving  origin  to  the  term  in  such  common  use, 
"The  green-eyed  monster."  Indeed,  it  is  a  fact  admitted  by  most 
writers  on  physiology  that  this  condition  of  the  mind,  above  all 
others,  has  a  specific  tendency  toward  deranging  the  hepatic  func- 
tions ;  and  melancholia  is  said  also  to  sometimes  produce  the  same 
effect.  We  have  never  observed  either  to  be  causative  of  such  a 
condition, —  although  we  have  known  a  pang  of  jealousy,  in  a 
person  otherwise  in  excellent  health,  to  so  affect  the  halitus  from 
the  pulmonary  tissues  as  to  render  it  insufferably  offensive  in  less 
than  five  minutes, — the  extremities  at  the  same  time  passing  into 
an  icy  coldness.  These  manifestations  are  not  strange,  however, 
when  we  remember  what  power  other  emotional  conditions  exert 
over  the  various  functions  of  the  body — as,  for  instance,  fear  over 
the  alimentary  and  urinary  organs,  anger  upon  the  mammary 
secretion,  etc.,  etc. 

In  "The  Winter's  Tale  "  we  have  the  matter  between  Leontes, 
his  queen,  and  Polixenes,  king  of  Bohemia. 

Leontes,  being  of  a  jealous  disposition,  thinks  he  discovers  a 
growing  intimacy  springing  up  between  his  guest  and  his  queen,  and 
half  to  himself,  half  to  his  young  son,  he  thus  soliloquizes : 

"  To  mingle  friendships  far  is  mingling  bloods ;  there  have  been, 
or  I  am  much  deceiv'd,  cuckolds  ere  now ;  and  many  a  man  there 
is  (even  at  this  present,  now,  while  I  speak  this)  holds  his  wife  by 
the  arm,  that  little  thinks  she  has  been  sluc'd  in  's  absence,  and  his 
pond  fish'd  by  his  next  neighbor,  by  Sir  Smile,  his  neighbor.  Nay, 
there's  comfort  in  't,  whilst  other  men  have  gates,  and  those  gates 
open'd,   as  mine,  against  their  will.     Should  all  despair  that  have 


PSYCHOLOGY.  103 

revolted  wives,  the  tenth  of  mankind  would  hang  themselves. 
Physic  for't  there's  none:  it  is  a  bawdy  planet,  that  will  strike 
wher  't  is  predominant ;  and  'tis  powerful,  think  it,  no  barricado 
for  a  belly :  know  it ;  it  will  let  in  and  out  the  enemy,  with  bag  and 
baggage ;  many  a  thousand  on  's  have  the  disease,  and  feel  it  not." 

His  faithful  servant  Camillo  essayed  hard  to  persuade  him  that 
his  queen  was  pure  as  the  beautiful  snow, — that  he  was  laboring 
under  a  perturbed  imagination ;  but  all  this  nice  talk  was  hushed 
into  stillness  by  the  following  inexorable  logic  of  the  king: 

"  Is  whispering  nothing?  Is  leaning  cheek  to  cheek?  is  meeting 
noses?  kissing  with  inside  lip?  stopping  the  career  of  laughter 
with  a  sigh?  (a  note  infallible  of  breaking  honesty :)  horsing  foot 
on  foot?  skulking  in  corners?  wishing  clocks  more  swift?  hours, 
minutes?  noon,  midnight?  and  all  eyes  blind  with  '  pin  and  web' 
(old  name  for  cataract)  but  theirs,  theirs  only,  that  would  unseen 
be  wicked?  is  this  nothing? 

Camillo.  Good,  my  lord,  be  cur'd  of  this  diseas'd  opinion,  and 
betimes  ;  for  'tis  most  dangerous." 

Whether  "so  thick  a  drop  serene  had  quench'd  their  orbes,"  or 
else  the  good  king  himself  labored  under  an  unusual  obliquity  of 
vision,  we  are  certainly  unable  to  say;  but  without  doubt  he  put 
up  a  pretty  hard  case  against  the  queen.  In  the  meantime,  Poli- 
xenes  having  "smelt  a  rat"  endeavored  to  "pump"  the  man 
Camillo  in  regard  to  his  master's  conduct,  which  brought  about  this 
conversation : 

Polixenes.  "The  king  hath  on  him  such  a  countenance,  as  he 
had  lost  some  province,  and  a  region  lov'd  as  he  loves  himself : 
even  now' I  met  him  with  customary  compliment,  when  he,  wafting 
his  eyes  to  the  contrar}'-,  and  falling  a  lip  of  contempt,  speeds 
from  me." 

Reader,  if  j^ou  have  ever  had  the  misfortune  to  have  engendered 
in  the  bosom  of  a  friend  a  sense  of  jealousy,  how  do  you  like  his 
picture?  Camillo,  in  explanation,  tells  Polixenes  that  "there  is 
a  sickness  which  puts  some  of  us  in  distemper ;  but  I  cannot  name 
the  disease,  and  it  is  caught  of  you  that  yet  are  well."  Buc,  as 
suggested  at  another  place  in  this  work,  it  is  left  to  the  part  of 
Othello,  the  Moor  of  Venice,  to  portray  to  the  utmost  bounds  of 
possiVjility   the   tortures   of  a   jealous   soul:    the    agonies    of   the 


104  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

doomed,  in  perdition,  cannot  surpass  in  reality  what  the  author 
puts  upon  the  soul  of  this  blaek-a-moor.  Could  we  sometimes 
draw  aside  the  veil,  and  look  for  one  short  hour  into  the  depths  of 
the  human  heart,  what  of  woe  and  misery  might  we  not  discover 
there,  though  it  be  gilded  in  its  superfices  with  bright  and  sunny 
smiles  and  shrouded  with  a  merry  laugh.  After  a  lengthy  talk 
between  the  black  general  and  his  special  pet,  the  villain  lago,  the 
latter  admonished  his  master  thus : 

"  O !  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy ;  it  is  the  green-eyed  monster, 
which  doth  make  the  meat  it  feeds  on:  that  cuckold  lives  in  bliss, 
who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger ;  but  O !  what 
damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er,  who  dotes,  yet  doubts ;  suspects,  yet 
fondly  loves !  In  Venice  these  women  do  let  heaven  see  the 
pranks  they  dare  not  show  their  husbands ;  their  best  conscience 
is,  not  to  leave  't  undone,  but  keep  't  unknown. 

Othello.  O,  curse  of  marriage!  that  we  can  call  these  delicate 
creatures  ours,  and  not  their  appetites.  I  had  rather  be  a  toad,  and 
live  upon  the  vapors  of  a  dungeon,  than  keep  a  corner  in  the  thing 
I  love,  for  others'  uses." 

"  Honest  lago,"  upon  possessing  himself  surreptitiously  of  his 
mistress'  handkerchief,  which  he  intends  placing  in  the  room  of 
the  innocent  Cassio,  thus  talks  to  his  noble  self: 

"  I  will  in  Cassio's  lodging  lose  this  napkin,  and  let  him  find  it ; 
trifles  light  as  air,  are  to  the  jealous,  confirmation  strong  as  proofs 
of  holy  writ.  This  may  do  something ;  the  Moor  is  already  charged 
with  my  poison. 

Othello.  I  swear  'tis  better  to  be  much  abus'd,  tlian  but  to  know 
a  little.  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stolen  hours  of  lust?  I  saw  it 
not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me:  I  slept  the  next  night  well, 
was  free  and  merry;  I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips:  he 
that  is  robb'd,  not  wanting  what  is  stolen,  let  him  not  know't,  and 
he's  not  robb'd  at  all.  I  had  been  happy  if  the  general  camp,  pio- 
neers and  all,  had  tasted  her  sweet  body,  so  I  had  nothing  known. 
— O !  now,  forever,  farewell  to  the  tranquil  mind  ;  farewell  all  con- 
tent; farewell  the  plumed  troops,  and  the  big  wars,  that  make 
ambition  virtue  ;  O,  farewell !  Farewell  the  neighing  steed,  and  the 
shrill  trump,  the  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife,  the  royal 
banner,  and  all  quality,  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstances  of  glorious 


PSYCHOLOGY.  105 

war !  And  O !  3^011  mortal  engines  whose  rude  throats  th'  immortal 
Jove's  dread  clamors  counterfeit,  farewell !  Othello's  occupation's 
gone." 

In  his  frenzied  despair  he  goes  on  (<o  lago) : 

"  Villain,  be  sure  thou  prove  ray  love  a  whore,  be  sure  of  it :  give 
me  the  ocular  proof,  or  by  the  worth  of  mine  eternal  soul,  thou  hadst 
better  have  been  born  a  dog,  than  answer  my  wak'd  wrath.  Make  me 
see  it ;  or  at  least  so  prove  it,  that  the  probation  bear  no  hinge, 
nor  loop  to  hang  a  doubt  on,  or  woe  upon  thy  life !" 

After  this,  in  company  with  his  greatly  wronged  Desdemona, 
Othello  nurses  his  jealous  wrath,  and  accuses  his  innocent  child- 
wife  in  this  language : 

"This  hand  is  moist,  my  lady.  This  argues  fruitfulness  and 
liberal  heart.  Hot,  hot  and  moist:  this  hand  of  yours  requires  a 
sequester  from  liberty,  fasting  and  praying,  much  castigation,  exer- 
cise devout,  for  here's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here  that 
commonly  rebels." 

This  extract  contains  the  spirit  of  an  idea  that  retains  a  hold  upon 
popular  credulity  up  to  this  da}^ — namely,  that  a  "moist  palm" 
foretells  "  breaking  honesty."  There  is  perhaps  little  foundation 
for  the  notion,  save  possibly  the  connection  such  a  humidity  may 
have  with  a  vigorous  and  healthy  circulation — that,  and  not  the  soft 
and  placid  hand,  being  the  progenitor  of  amativeness. 

To  illustrate  the  difficulty  with  which  we  recover  those  who  have 
once  had  the  jealous  thorn  thrust  into  their  side,  we  may  give  the 
following  conversation  which  occurred  between  Desdemona  and  her 
woman : 

Emilia.  "  Pray  heaven  it  (OthelU/s  inquietude)  may  be  state 
matters,  as  you  think,  and  no  conception,  nor  jealous  toy  concerning 
you. 

Desdemona.     Alas,  the  day!     I  never  gave  him  cause. 

Emilia.  .  But  jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer' d  so  ;  they  are  not 
ever  jealous  for  a  cause,  but  jealous  for  they  are  jealous:  'tis  a 
monster,  begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself." 

lago,  honest  lago,  then  consoles  his  master  thus: 

"Good  sir,  be  a  man;  think,  every  bearded  fellow  that's  but 
yok'd,  may  draw  with  you:  there's  millions  now  alive,  that  nightly 


106  SHAKESPEARE   AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

lie  in  those  improper  beds,  which  they  dare  swear  peculiar:  your 
case  is  better.  O!  'tis  the  spite  of  hell,  the  fiend's  arch-mock,  to 
lip  a  wanton  in  a  secure  couch,  and  to  suppose  her  chaste." 

Desdemona.     "  Mine  eyes  do  itch  ;  doth  that  bode  weeping? 

Emilia.     'Tis  neither  here  nor  there. 

Desdemona.  I  have  heard  it  said  so. — O!  these  men,  these 
men ! — Doth  thou  in  conscience  think, — tell  me,  Emilia, — that  there 
be  women  who  do  abuse  their  husbands  in  such  gross  kind? 

Emilia.     There  be  some  such,  no  question. 

Desdemona.     Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the  world? 

Emilia.     "Why,  would  not  you? 

Desdemona.     No,  by  this  heavenly  light. 

Emilia.  Nor  I  neither  by  this  heavenly  light ;  I  might  do  't  as 
well  i'  the  dark. 

Desdemona.     Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  thing  for  all  the  world  ? 

Emilia.  The  world  is  a  large  thing:  'tis  a  great  price  for  a 
small  vice. 

Desdemona.     In  truth,  I  think  thou  wouldst  not. 

Emilia.  In  truth  I  think  I  should,  and  undo  't  when  I  had  done. 
Marry,  I  would  not  do  such  a  thing  for  a  joint-ring,  nor  for  meas- 
ures of  lawn,  nor  for  gowns,  petticoats,  nor  caps,  nor  any  petty 
exhibition,  but  for  the  whole  world,  who  would  not  make  her  hus- 
band a  cuckold,  to  make  him  a  monarch  ?  I  should  venture  pur- 
gatory for  it. 

Desdemona.  Beshrew  me  if  I  would  do  such  a  wrong  for  the 
whole  world.     I  do  not  think  there  is  any  such  women. 

Emilia.  Yes,  dozens  ;  but  I  do  think  it  is  their  husband's  faults 
if  wives  do  fall.  Say,  that  they  slack  their  duties,  and  pour  out 
treasures  into  foreign  laps ;  or  break  out  into  peevish  jealousies, 
throwing  restraint  upon  us ;  why,  we  have  galls,  and  though 
we  have  some  grace  we  have  some  revenge.  Let  husbands  know 
their  wives  have  sense  like  them ;  they  see  and  smell,  and  have 
their  palates  both  for  sweet  and  sour,  as  husbands  have.  The  ills 
we  do,  their  ills  instruct  us  to." 

The  philosophy  of  P^milia  as  to  the  justice  of  an  equality  in  re- 
gard to  the  sexual  relations  is  a  common  one  among  mankind  in 
general  even  at  this  time ;  and  at  first  thought  would  appear  to  be 
founded  in  an  unimpeachable  provision  of  nature — "what  is  good 
for  the  gander  is  also  good  for  the  goose  ;  "   but  this  it  is  thought, 


PSYCHOLOGY.  107 

is  not  so,  either  from  a  moral  or  scientific  stand-point.  The  sexual 
appetite  in  the  male  and  female  are  quite  dissimilar ;  nature  has 
placed  them  upon  different  planes  in  this  respect.  While  sexual 
indulgence  becomes  in  some  men  the  ruling  passion  of  existence, 
in  women  this  is  scarcely  ever  so.  While  they  may  consummate 
the  act  with  equal  frequency,  it  is  in  a  quiescent  way  —  rather 
one  of  submission  than  active,  enjoyable  participation.  Again, 
woman  is  only  endowed  with  the  capacity  of  procreating  the 
species  to  a  limited  degree.  Placing  her  reproductive  life  at 
thirty  years,  and  allowing  her  to  be  able  to  reach  the  utmost  con- 
fines of  fecundity,  she  could  not  become  the  mother  of  more  than 
ninety  mature  children — thus  giving  her  triplets  every  year  during 
her  entire  reproductive  life — a  thing  unheard  of,  but  yet  possible. 

This  ought  to  represent  the  ratio — the  sum  total,  of  her  sexual 
desires  and  her  sexual  liberties.  On  the  other  hand,  man  is  en- 
dowed with  procreative  capabilities  only  limited  by  his  existence, 
be  that  twenty-five  or  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  years.  Limit 
this  period  say  to  one  hundred  years  as  the  remotest  possibility  in 
man  at  this  age  of  the  world,  and  let  his  virile  life  begin  at  fifteen  ; 
allow  one  copulative  act  for  every  twenty-four  hours  of  his  life,  and 
we  find  his  fructifying  capacity  to  reach  over  thirty-one  thousand. 
We  need  not  be  accused  of  exaggeration  in  the  statement  of  the  belief 
that  this  number  is  under  the  limit  of  actuality  as  possessed  in  the 
reproductive  energies  of  many  men.  Measuring,  then,  sexual 
licence  allowable  in  man  and  woman  relatively  as  to  their  repro- 
ductive capacities,  we  must  conclude  that  in  her  domestic  relations 
as  wife  and  mother  she  has  what  is  properly  allotted  to  her,  and 
when  she  goes  outside,  even  to  barter  for  monarchies  and  worlds, 
she  is  over-stepping  the  bounds  set  about  her  by  the  hand  of 
nature.  Physiological  propriety  therefore  makes  it  repugnant  for 
the  youth  to  be  coupled  in  marital  relations  with  the  aged  of  the 
other  sex,  while  the  young  woman  may,  without  transgressing  any 
law  fixed  about  her  in  her  organization,  become  consort  to  one  much 
her  senior. 

An  analysis  of  the  suliject  from  another  stand-point  would  also 
seem  to  militate  against  the  views  expressed  by  Emilia,  because  it 
is  an  incontrovertible  fact,  that  the  procreative  desire  and  power  in 
man  is,  as  before  stated,  far  beyond  that  of  woman, — and  the  grati- 
fication of  the  sexual  appetite  becomes  in  him  a  j^^i-ysiological  neces- 
sity— a  necessity  to  the  maintenance  of  the  best  physical  and  men- 


108  SHAKESPEARE    AS   A   PHYSICIAN.  ^ 

tal  interests  of  the  individual,  and  therefore  necessitating  a  wider 
scope  for  its  indulgence.  The  regulations  of  Mormon  society  fully 
illustrate  this  principle  ;  whilst  the  teachings  of  common  sense  itself 
point  unerringly  to  the  fact  that  nature  had  a  purpose  in  placing  man 
in  possession  of  this  appetite — and  for  an  end,  as  nothing  was  made 
in  vain.  If  God  gave  man  any  faculty  in  a  measure  beyond  that 
bestowed  upon  woman,  the  plan  of  creation  would  be  a  lame  one 
without  the  means  also  being  created  whereby  it  is  to  be  exercised ; 
and  whilst  monogamistic  relations  between  the  sexes  may  be  best 
suited  to  the  advance  of  morals,  it  is  far  from  certain  that  it  is  best 
for  the  physical  well-being  of  the  human  race.  This  view  may  not 
only  be  applied  to  man,  but  also  to  woman  as  well ;  as  it  is  the 
universal  belief,  not  only  among  individuals  and  communities,  but 
also  among  scientists,  that  it  is  the  undue  sexual  labor  imposed 
upon  the  wife  in  our  modern  society  (monogamistic)  that  is  rightly 
chargeable  with  the  evident  decadence  of  married  females.  This 
is  claimed  to  be  the  fault  of  the  husband — and  rightly  so,  directly ; 
but  indirectly  to  the  erroneous  constitution  of  the  sexual  relations 
of  modern  society — scientifically  considered.  The  burdens  im- 
posed upon  the  woman  in  this  regard  are  a  fruitful  source  of  the 
triple  crime  of  abortion  and  infanticide,  which  is  said  to  be  so  prev- 
alent at  this  day.  Why  did  this  evil  not  prevail  among  the  poly- 
gamic wives  of  the  patriarchs,  and  why  do  we  not  hear  of  its  prev- 
alence among  the  denizens  of  Utah  ?  There  must  be  a  cause  for  it. 
'Tis  over-burdened  woman  that  seeks  to  evade  the  responsibility 
of  a  numerous  progeny — man  never.  The  plea,  therefore,  of 
Emilia,  that  their  husbands  set  them  the  example  by  pouring  their 
treasures  in  other  laps,  is  not  well  founded ;  though  her  argument 
is  built  upon  the  assumption  of  Rosalind,  that  "  that  woman  that 
cannot  make  her  fault  her  husband's  accusing,  let  her  never  nurse 
her  child  herself,  for  she  will  breed  it  like  a  fool." 

Love  will  be  the  next  subject  to  claim  our  notice. 

Speed,  in  the  "Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  enlightens  his 
master  in  regard  to  the  symptomatology  of  this  affection  in  a  lucid 
and  forcible  manner : 

Videntine.     "  How  know  you  that  I  am  in  love  ? 

Speed.  Marry,  by  these  special  marks. — First,  you  have  learn'd, 
like  Sir  Proteus,  to  wreath  your  arms  like  a  malcontent ;  to  relish  a 
love-song,  like  a  robin-red-breast;  to  walk  alone,  like  one  that  hath 
the  pestilence ;  to  sigh,  like  a  school-boy  that  hath  lost  his  ABC; 


PSYCHOLOGY.  109 

to  weep,  like  a  young  wench  that  hath  buried  her  grandam ;  to  fast, 
like  one  that  takes  diet ;  to  watch,  like  one  that  fears  robbing ; 
to  speak  puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Hallowmas.  You  were  wont,  when 
you  laugh'd,  to  crow  like  a  cock;  when  you  walk'd,  to  walk  like 
one  of  the  lions ;  when  you  fasted,  it  was  presently  after  dinner ; 
when  you  look'd  sadly,  it  was  for  want  of  money ;  and  now  you 
are  so  metamorphosed  with  a  mistress,  that,  when  I  look  on  you,  I 
can  hardly  think  you  my  master." 

Falstaff ,  in  his  letter  to  Lady  Page,  tells  it  in  this  natural  style : 
•'Ask  me  no  reason  why  I  love  you;  for  though  love  uses  reason 
for  his  physician,  he  admits  him  not  for  his  counsellor."  It  would 
seem  that  the  exalted  feelings  which  a  man  possesses,  and  the  won- 
derful things  he  imagines  he  could  and  would  perform  for  the 
woman  he  loves,  is  very  fitly  expressed  in  a  conversation  between 
Troilus  and  Cressida: 

Troihis.  "  When  we  vow  to  weep  seas,  live  in  fire,  eat  rocks, 
tame  tigers,  think  it  harder  for  our  mistress  to  devise  imposition 
enough,  than  for  us  to  undergo  any  difficulty  imposed.  This  is  the 
monstrosity  in  love,  lady, — that  the  will  is  infinite  and  the  execu- 
tion confined ;  that  the  desire  is  boundless,  and  the  act  a  slave  to 
limit. 

Cressida.  They  say,  all  lovers  swear  more  performance  than 
they  are  able,  and  yet  reserve  an  ability  that  they  never  perform ; 
vowing  more  than  the  performance  of  ten,  and  discharging  less 
than  the  tenth  part  of  one." 

Then  comes  the  coquettish  little  Dolly  Varden  of  Shakespeare, — 
Rosalind,  in  "As  You  Like  It,"  and  shows  us  that  she  can  diag- 
nose a  love  fit  as  well  as  the  best  of  them ;  this  is  the  way  she  says 
an  excess  of  the  endearing  passion  manifests  itself : 

Rosalind.  "There  is  none  of  my  uncle's  (love)  marks  upon 
you :  he  taught  me  how  to  know  a  man  in  love :  in  which  cage  of 
rushes,  I  am  sure,  you  are  not  prisoner. 

Orlando.     What  are  his  marks  ? 

Rosalind.  A  lean  cheek,  which  you  have  not ;  a  blue  eye,  and 
sunken,  which  you  have  not ;  an  unquestionable  spirit,  which  you 
have  not;  a  beard  neglected,  which  you  have  not;  but  I  pardon 
you  for  that,  for,  your  having  no  beard  is  a  younger  brother's 
revenue.     Then,  your  hose  should  be  ungarter'd,  your  bonnet  un- 


110  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

banded,  your  sleeve  unbuttoned,  your  shoe  untied,  and  everything 
about  you  demonstrating  a  careless  desolation. 

Orlando.  Fair  youth,  I  would  I  could  make  you  believe  I  love. 
(It  will  be  remembered  by  the  reader,  that  Rosalind  loas  disguised  in 
the  habiliments  of  a  shepherd  boy.) 

Rosalind.  Love  is  merely  a  madness,  and  I  tell  you,  deserves  as 
well  a  dark  house,  and  a  whip  as  mad  men  do  ;  and  the  reason  why 
they  are  not  so  punished  and  cured,  is  that  the  lunacy  is  so  ordinary 
that  the  whippers  are  in  love  too.  Yet  I  profess  curing  it  by 
counsel. 

Orlando.     Did  you  ever  cure  any  so? 

Rosalind.  Yes,  one  ;  and  in  this  manner.  He  was  to  imagine  me 
his  love,  his  mistress,  and  I  set  him  every  day  to  woo  me :  at  which 
time  would  I,  being  but  a  moonish  youth,  grieve,  be  effeminate, 
changeable,  longing,  and  liking;  proud,  fantastical,  apish,  shal- 
low, inconstant,  full  of  tears,  full  of  smiles ;  for  every  passion 
something,  and  for  no  passion  truly  anything,  as  boys  and  women 
are,  for  most  part,  cattle  of  this  color:  would  now  like  him,  now 
loathe  him ;  then  entertain  him,  then  forswear  him ;  now  weep  for 
him,  then  spit  at  him ;  that  I  drave  my  suitor  from  his  mad  humor 
of  love,  to  a  loving  humor  of  madness  ;  and  thus  I  cured  him  ;  and 
this  way  will  I  take  upon  me  to  wash  your  liver  as  clean  as  a  sound 
sheep's  heart,  that  there  shall  not  be  one  spot  of  love  in  't. 

Orlando.     I  would  not  be  cured,  youth." 

After  a  long  acquaintance,  in  which  Orlando  courts  the  shepherd 
boy,  the  young  flirt  tells  him  it  is  "no  use  talking" — she  cannot 
marry  him ;  and  in  his  infatuation  he  says  "  then  in  mine  own  per- 
son I  die."  She  responds,  "  No,  faith,  die  by  attorney.  The  poor 
world  is  nearly  six  thousand  years  old,  and  in  all  that  time  there 
was  not  any  man  died  in  his  own  person, — videlicet,  in  a  love 
cause." 

In  the  same  comedy  we  have  another  description  of  the  "  symp- 
toms" which  is  characteristic  of  the  tender  passion.  It  is  in  the 
scene  between  Silvius  and  Phebe,  and  runs  thus : 

Corine.  (To  Rosalind  and  Celia.)  "If  you  will  see  a  pageant 
truly  play'd,  between  the  pale  complexion  of  true  love  and  the  red 
glow  of  scorn  and  proud  disdain,  go  hence  a  little,  and  I  shall  con- 
duct you,  if  you  will  mark  it. 

Rosalind.  O !  come,  let  us  remove  ;  the  sight  of  lovers  feedeth 
those  in  love." 


PSYCHOLOGY.  Ill 

"Who,  save  Shakespeare,  ever  noted  the  '''■pale"  complexion  of 
true  love?  Perhaps  the  "red  glow  of  scorn  and  proud  disdain  " 
had  been  observed  by  many  a  languishing  swain  long,  long  before, 
but  the  other  observation  is  only  original  as  it  is  true. 

In  "Hamlet,"  A.  ii.,  S.  i.,  Ophelia  tells  of  Hamlet's  spasm  in 
this  characteristic  language : 

Ophelia.     "  Alas,  my  lord,  I  have  been  so  affrighted! 

Polonius.     With  what,  in  the  name  of  God? 

Ophelia.  My  lord,  as  I  was  sewing  in  my  chamber.  Lord  Ham- 
let,— with  his  doublet  all  unbrac'd;  no  hat  upon  his  head;  his 
stockings  foul'd,  ungarter'd,  and  down-gyved  to  his  ankles ;  pale 
as  his  shirt ;  his  knees  knocking  each  other,  and  with  a  look  so 
piteous  in  purport,  as  if  he  had  been  loosed  out  of  hell,  to  speak 
of  horrors, — he  comes  before  me. 

Polonius.     Mad  for  thy  love  ? 

Ophelia.     My  lord,  I  do  not  know  ;  but,  truly,  I  do  fear  it. 

Polonius.     What  said  he? 

Ophelia.  He  took  me  by  the  wrist,  and  held  me  hard  ;  then  goes 
he  to  the  length  of  all  his  arm,  and  with  his  other  hand  thus  o'er 
his  brow,  he  falls  to  such  perusal  of  my  face,  as  he  would  draw  it. 
Long  stay'd  he  so  ;  at  last,  a  little  shaking  of  mine  arm,  and  thrice 
his  head  thus  waving  up  and  down, — he  rais'd  a  sigh  so  piteous  and 
profound,  that  it  did  seem  to  shatter  all  his  bulk  and  end  his  being. 
That  done,  he  lets  me  go,  and  with  his  head  over  his  shoulder 
turn'd,  he  seem'd  to  find  his  way  without  his  eyes, — for  out  o'  doors 
he  went  without  their  help. 

Polonius.  Come,  go  with  me:  I  will  seek  the  king:  this  is  the 
very  ecstasy  of  love ;  whose  violent  property  foredoes  itself,  and 
leads  the  will  to  desperate  undertakings,  as  oft  as  any  passion 
under  heaven,  that  does  afflict  our  natures." 

In  this  extract  we  again  have  reiterated  the  observation  of  the 
pale  face  of  desperate  love,  and  also  the  repetition  of  the  assertion 
that  Hamlet  had  ecstasy — a  matter  noted  specially  in  the  earlier 
portion  of  this  chapter.  In  this  connexion  even,  we  find  how  ad- 
mirably Shakespeare  keeps  to  his  ideas — the  idea  in  this  instance, 
that  the  eccentricities  of  Hamlet  are  due  to  perturbed  intellection. 
Polonius  evidently  feared,  what  would  be  likely  to  happen  now, 
were  one  of  our  "blooded"  youths  placed  in  Hamlet's  predica- 
ment ;  viz.— draw  his  little  revolver  and  murder  either  Ophelia  her- 


112  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

self,  or  her  dear  mother,  or  both,  and  then  make  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  upon  his  own  valuable  existence. 

We  have  greatly  improved  upon  the  plan  of  putting  one's  head 
over  the  shoulder,  and  walking  us  sideways  out  of  the  parlor. 

Poor  Ophelia  had  acted  the  wiser  part  had  she  made  the  matter 
right  then  and  there,  rather  than  to  have  pined  over  the  matter 
later, — and  then,  to  end  it,  bury  her  fair  form  in  the  dark  waters  be- 
neath the  willows.  Woman  in  love  affairs  has  been  an  enigma  from 
the  first  dawn  of  the  creation ;  and  if  God  Himself  understands 
her.  He  surely  guards  His  knowledge  carefully  as  one  of  His 
inscrutable  secrets. 

Cymbeline  admits  the  folly  of  his  choice  indirectly,  in  these 
words:  "Mine  eyes  were  not  at  fault,  for  she  was  beautiful;  nor 
mine  ears,  that  heard  her  flattery ;  nor  mine  heart,  that  thought 
her  like  her  seeming:  it  had  been  vicious  to  have  mistrusted  her," — 
all  of  which  plainly  tells  that  size,  age  and  royalty  have  no  pro- 
tection from  the  machinations  of  designing  women  any  more  than 
do  the  young  and  unwary ;  neither  have  they  any  more  discretion 
in  judging  of  her  character,  though  experience  may  be  serviceable 
to  them  in  all  things  else. 

The  next  subject  demanding  notice  is  Lust,  the  darkest  and  most 
degrading  passion  of  the  human  heart. 

"  Say  unto  wisdom,  thou  art  my  sister;  and  call  understanding 
thy  kinswoman :  that  they  may  keep  thee  from  the  strange  woman, 
from  the  stranger  which  flattereth  with  her  words.  For  at  the  win- 
dow of  my  house  I  looked  through  my  casement,  and  beheld  among 
the  simple  ones,  I  discerned  among  the  youths  a  young  man  void 
of  understanding,  passing  through  the  street  near  her  corner ;  and 
he  went  the  way  to  her  house,  in  the  twilight,  in  the  evening,  in  the 
black  and  dark  night:  and,  behold,  there  met  him  a  woman  with 
the  attire  of  a  harlot,  and  subtile  of  heart.  (She  is  loud  and  stub- 
born ;  her  feet  abide  not  in  her  house :  now  she  is  without,  now  in 
the  streets,  and  lieth  in  wait  at  every  corner.) 

So  she  caught  him,  and  kissed  him,  and  with  an  impudent  face 
said  unto  him,  I  have  peace  offerings  with  me ;  this  day  have  I  paid 
my  vows.  Therefore  came  I  forth  to  meet  thee,  diligently  to  seek 
thy  face,  and  I  have  found  thee.  I  have  decked  my  bed  with 
coverings  of  tapestry,  with  carved  works,  with  fine  linen  of  Egypt. 
I  have  perfumed  my  bed  with  myrrh,  aloes  and  cinnamon.     Come, 


PSYCHOLOGY.  113 

let  US  take  our  fill  of  love  until  the  morning:  let  us  solace  ourselves 
with  loves.  For  the  goodman  is  not  at  home,  he  is  gone  a  long 
journey :  he  hath  taken  a  bag  of  money  with  him,  and  will  come 
home  at  the  day  appointed.  With  her  much  fair  speech  she  caused 
him  to  yield,  with  the  flattering  of  her  lips  she  forced  him.  He 
goeth  after  her  straightway,  as  an  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or  as  a 
fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks ;  till  a  dart  strike  through  his 
liver;  as  a  bird  hasteth  to  the  snare,  and  knoweth  not  that  it  is  for 
his  life." 

My  reader,  this  is  not  from  Shakespeare,  but  it  illustrates  very 
beautifully  the  condition  of  things  wherein  lust  makes  the  chief 
ingredient. 

Shakespeare  himself,  however,  declares  that  "lust  is  as  near  to 
murder  as  flame  is  to  smoke." 

Lucio,  the  fantastic,  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  in  conversation 
with  the  duke  relative  to  the  severity  with  which  Angelo,  the  deputy, 
was  executing  the  laws  against  lewdness,  unbosoms  himself  of  his 
ideas  in  this  wise : 

"This  ungenitur'd  agent  will  unpeople  the  province  with  con- 
tinency  ;  sparrows  must  not  build  in  his  house-eaves,  because  they 
are  lecherous.  The  duke  yet  would  have  dark  deeds,  darkly  an- 
swer'd;  he  would  never  bring  them  to  light:  would  he  were  re- 
turn'd!  Marry,  this  Claudio  is  condemned  for  untrussing.  Fare 
well,  good  friar ;  yet,  and  I  say  to  thee,  he  would  mouth  with  a 
beggar,  though  she  smelt  brown-bread  and  garlic." 

The  term  "untrussing"  used  here,  perhaps  simply  means  that 
he  had  relieved  himself  of  his  amatory  excitement  by  the  copulative 
act,  or  else  to  relieving  himself  of  his  "  doublet  and  hose,"  pre- 
paratory to  such  an  encounter.  He  might  certainly  have  been  the 
victim  of  a  hernial  protusion,  requiring  the  use  of  the  surgical 
appliance  implied  in  the  language, — and  this  would  be  made  the 
more  possible  when  we  remember  that  it  is  asserted  by  good  author- 
ity that  one  man  in  every  five  has  the  malady  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent. 

In  "All's  "Well  that  Ends  Well,"  Bertram,  in  his  lascivious  in- 
trigue with  Diana,  the  widow's  daughter,  pleads  his  case  in  these 
terms:  "  Be  not  so  holy  cruel:  love  is  holy,  and  my  integrity  ne'er 
knew  the  crafts  that  you  do  charge  me  with.  Stand  no  more  off, 
but  give  thyself  unto  my  sick  desires,  who  then  recover."     And  in 


114  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

"  The  Winter's  Tale,"  the  old  Shepherd  deprecates  the  procreative 
{_,.-  appetite  in  this  way :  "I  would  there  were  no  age  between  ten  and 
twenty-three,  or  that  youth  sleep  out  the  rest,  for  there  is  nothing  in 
the  between  but  getting  wenches  with  child."  The  Shepherd  falls 
into  the  error  of  placing  the  power  of  procreation  at  a  much  earlier 
age  in  the  male,  than  the  others  of  Shakespeare's  characters  do 
in  the  female.  It  is  the  universally  received  opinion  that  the  human 
female  acquires  the  virile  power  at  an  age  one  or  two  years  earlier 
than  the  male ;  but  it  is  also  conceded  that  she  loses  it  at  a  period 
at  least  many  years  before  her  male  companion,  if,  indeed,  he  ever 
does  so.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  it  was  not  intended  that  the 
observation  of  the  old  Shepherd  was  to  be  regarded  from  a  scientific 
stand-point,  but  that  it  was  purposely  made  a  little  on  the  extreme 
the  better  to  illustrate  the  idea  of  the  lecherous  tendency  in  the 
youth  of  the  age  in  which  it  was  written. 

There  has,  perhaps,  from  time  immemorial,  been  an  idea  preva- 
lent among  the  credulous  portion  of  mankind,  that  there  are  cer- 
tain drugs,  which,  when  swallowed,  will  cause  the  person  to  form 
an  amorous  desire  and  attachment  for  the  person  who  thus  admin- 
isters them.  This  love  specific  is  often  sought  from  doctors  and 
apothecaries  by  ignorant  and  unsopisticated  swains,  under  the  name 
of  "love  powders,"  and  the  delusion  is  often  pandered  to  by  the 
unprincipled,  through  a  motive  of  pecuniary  gain.  Brabantio  sus- 
pected that  Othello  had  practiced  some  nefarious  art  of  this  charac- 
ter upon  Desdemona,  as  will  be  fully  shown  in  the  following 
passage : 

Brabantio.  "O,  thou  foul  thief!  where  hast  thou  stowed  my 
daughter?  Daran'd  as  thou  art,  thou  hast  enchanted  her;  for  I'll 
refer  me  to  all  things  of  sense,  if  she  was  not  in  chains  of  magic 
bound,  whether  a  maid  so  tender,  fair  and  happy  would  ever  run 
from  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom  of  such  a  thing  as  thou ;  thou 
hast  practiced  on  her  with  foul  charms,  abused  her  youth  with 
drugs  or  minerals  that  weaken  motion. — I,  therefore,  apprehend 
thee  for  an  abuser  of  the  world,  a  practiser  of  arts  inhibited,  and 
out  of  warrant.     My  daughter!     Oh,  my  daughter! 

Senator.     Dead? 

Brabantio.  Ay,  to  me ;  she  is  abused,  stolen  from  me,  and  cor- 
rupted by  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks. 

Othello.     I  will  a  round  unvarnished   tale  deliver  of  my  whole 


PSYCHOLOGY.  1 15 

course  of    love;  what  drugs,  what  charms,  what  conjuration,  and 
what  mighty  magic,  I  won  his  daughter  with. 

Brabantio.  I  vouch  again,  that  with  some  mixture  powerful  o'er 
the  blood,  or  with  some  dram  coujur'd  to  this  effect,  he  wrought  upon 
her ; "  and  "If  the  rascal  have  not  given  me  medicines  to  make  me 
love  him,  I'll  be  hanged,"  taken  from  Falstaff,  perhaps  has  its  origin 
in  the  same  perverted  idea.  There  are  some  remedies  certainly,  and 
some  special  local  irritations  which  act  as  provocatives  to  venereal 
appetite ;  but  none  which  act  in  any  way  to  produce  the  sentiment 
of  affection.  That  not  only  the  ignorant,  but  persons  in  the  high- 
est ranks  of  life,  among  the  nations  of  antiquity,  believed  in  "  love- 
drinks"  we  have  abundant  evidence.  Ovid  and  other  early  writers 
described  these  drinks  as  sometimes  affecting  the  mind  and  causing 
death.  Lucullus,  a  celebrated  Roman  general,  was  said  to  have 
died  thus ;  and  Lucretius,  a  noted  Roman  poet,  was  said  to  have 
written  one  of  his  most  celebrated  productions  in  intervals  of  de- 
lirium occasioned  by  a  "love-drink."  To  such  an  extent  was  this 
custom  of  administering  remedies  of  power  through  the  erroneous 
notion  of  their  erotic  powers,  that  rigid  legal  enactments  were  at 
length  resorted  to  in  some  countries  for  its  suppression.  The  reme- 
dies in  use  for  this  purpose  were  as  numerous  and  often  of  as  dis- 
gusting a  nature  as  the  Chinese  materia  medica  of  to-day.  The 
delusion  held  large  popular  sway  until  about  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  at  which  time  we  find  Van  Helmont  propaga- 
ting such  doctrine  as  this:  "I  know  a  plant,  which  if  you  rub  in 
the  hand  until  it  becomes  warm,  and  then  take  the  hand  of  another 
and  hold  it  until  it  also  becomes  warm,  that  person  will  forthwith 
become  stimulated  with  love  for  you  and  continue  so  for  several 
days." 

Though,  as  before  suggested,  people  of  sound  sense  of  to-day 
pay  no  attention  to  such  nonsense  as  "love- powders,"  "love- 
drinks,"  or  "philters,"  yet  there  are  very  many  persons  in  our 
enlightened  land  who  yet  believe  in  their  existence,  as  almost  every 
physician  can  attest.  Following  is  a  verbatim  copy  of  a  letter  re- 
ceived by  the  writer  from  a  young  lady,  only  a  few  days  ago : 

" ,  Iowa,  June  11,  1883. 

Sir: — I  take  this  opportunity  (which  is  to  be  strictly  confiden- 
tial), from  seeing  your  card  in  the  paper,  to  write  to  you.  I  am  the 
daughter  of  a  once  wealthy  man,  who  has  failed.    In  the  days  of  our 


116  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN, 

riches  I  kept  company  with  a  well-to-do  young  man  who  now  refuses 
to  comply  with  our  former  engagement,  and  if  you  will  send  me 
something  to  give  him  (which  I  know  you  can),  I  will  pay  you 
liberally  after  I  have  him  under  my  control.  You  please  send  it  to 
me  and  you  will  never  regret  it,  as  I  will  see  you  well  paid. 

Minnie  Marshall." 

The  name  here  of  course  is  fictitious,  but  the  letter  is  genuine 
and  has  a  genuine  signature.  I  introduce  it  to  show  that  while 
people  may  possess  intelligence  enough  to  write  a  letter,  the  com- 
position, chirography,  orthography,  punctuation,  etc.,  of  which 
points  to  the  more  than  ordinary  intelligence  of  the  writer,  yet  we 
find  her  making  a  very  foolish  request — one  not  at  all  susceptible  of 
fulfillment — in  real  earnest. 

To  prove  that  venereal  desire  is  not  love,  "Timon  of  Athens" 
may  be  quoted.  Here  is  his  conversation  with  Timandra :  "  Be  a 
whore  still!  they  love  thee  not  that  use  thee:  give  them  diseases, 
leaving  with  thee  their  lust;"  then  he  resumes  the  talk  in  this 
strain, — (I  have  gold)  "enough  to  make  a  whore  forswear  her 
trade,  and  to  make  whores  abhorr'd;  hold  up,  you  sluts,  your 
aprons  mountaut ;  you  are  not  oathable, — although  I  know  you'll 
swear, — speak  your  oaths,  I'll  trust  to  your  conditions  ;  be  whores 
still,  and  he  whose  pious  breath  seeks  to  convert  you,  be  strong  in 
whore,  allure  him,  burn  him  up ;  let  your  close  fire  predominate 
his  smoke,  and  be  no  turncoats."  But  the  most  trite  passage, 
descriptive  of  the  morbid  condition  of  the  mind  and  morals  which 
leads  to  the  embrace  of  lewdness,  is  found  in  the  story  of  the  ghost 
of  Hamlet's  murdered  father ;  he  speaks  of  his  brother  and  his 
queen.  "Ay,  that  incestuous,  that  adulterate  beast,  with  witch- 
craft of  his  wit,  with  traitorous  gifts,  (O  wicked  wit  and  gifts  that 
have  the  power  to  seduce !)  won  to  his  shameful  lust  the  will  of  my 
most  seeming  virtuous  queen.  O,  Hamlet,  what  a  falling-off  was 
there !  From  me,  whose  love  was  of  that  dignity,  that  it  went  hand 
in  hand  even  with  the  vow  I  made  to  her  in  marriage,  and  to  decline 
upon  a  wretch,  whose  natural  gifts  were  poor  to  those  of  mine!  But 
Virtue,  as  it  never  will  be  moved,  though  Lewdness  court  it  in  the 
shape  of  heaven,  so  Lust,  though  to  a  radiant  angel  link'd,  will  sate 
itself  in  a  celestial  bed,  and  prey  on  garbage."  This  is  the  counter- 
part to  occurrences  which  fall  under  our  observation  in  the  social 
world,  every  day,  and  strange  as  it  is  true.  This  "garbage"  on 
which  so  many  men  and  women  prey  is  a  source  of  greater  evil  to 


PSYCHOLOGY.  117 

mankind,  than  all  the  seething  pools  of  pl^ysical  corruption  com- 
bined ;  the  contagion  of  small-pox,  cholera,  and  the  plague  united, 
are  harmless  in  comparison  as  the  zephyr  of  a  summer's  morning. 

King  Lear.     "  What  hast  thou  been? 

Edgar.  A  serving-man,  proud  in  heart  and  mind;  that  curl'd 
my  hair,  wore  gloves  in  my  cap,  served  the  lust  of  my  mistress' 
heart,  and  did  the  act  of  darkness  with  her ;  swore  as  many  oaths 
as  I  spake  words,  and  broke  them  in  the  sweet  face  of  heaven ; 
one,  that  slept  in  the  contriving  of  lust,  and  waked  to  do  it.  Wine 
lov'd  I  deeply ;  dice  dearly ;  and  in  woman,  out-paramoured  the 
Turk:  false  of  heart,  light  of  ear,  bloody  of  hand;  hog  in  sloth, 
fox  in  stealth,  wolf  in  greediness,  dog  in  madness,  lion  in  prey. 
Let  not  the  creaking  of  shoes,  nor  the  rustling  of  silks  betray 
your  poor  heart  to  woman :  keep  thy  foot  out  of  brothels,  thy  hand 
out  of  plackets,  and  defy  the  foul  fiend.  The  gods  are  just,  and 
of  our  pleasant  vices  make  instruments  to  plague  us:"  and  refer- 
ring to  his  father,  the  same  fellow  says,  "the  dark  and  vicious 
place  where  thee  he  got,  cost  him  his  eyes."  Edmund  was  the 
bastard  son  of  old  Gloster,  "who  in  the  lusty  stealth  of  nature 
took  more  composition  and  fierce  quality,  than  doth  within  a  dull, 
stale,  tired  bed,  go  to  the  creating  a  whole  tribe  of  fops,  got  'tween 
sleep  and  wake."  The  inference  might  naturally  arise  that  old 
Gloster  got  gonorrhoeal  ophthalmia  in  the  place  where  he  got  that 
bastard  son,  were  we  to  give  weight  to  the  clear  significance  of  the 
language  in  the  last  line  of  the  extract ;  but  it  is  not  so,  as  his  eyes 
were  torn  out  by  the  cruelty  of  Regan  and  Cornwall,  as  is  seen  in 
Lear,  A.  iii.,  S.  vii. 

lago  gives  us  the  signs  of  "  breaking  honesty"  in  this  way;  he 
is  speaking  to  Roderigo  in  regard  to  Desdemona.  "Didst  thou  not 
see  her  paddle  with  the  palm  of  his  hand?  didst  not  mark  that? 

Roderigo.     Yes,  that  I  did  ;  But  that  was  but  courtesy. 

lago.  Lechery,  by  this  hand ;  an  index,  an  obscure  prologue  to 
the  history  of  lust  and  foul  thoughts.  They  met  so  near  with  their 
lips,  that  their  breaths  embraced  together."  O,  the  murderous 
liar!  In  "Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  it  is  said,  "Nay,  if  an  oily 
palm  be  not  a  fruitful  prognostication,  I  cannot  scratch  mine  ear," 
— a  quotation  referred  to  in  a  preceding  page  of  this  chapter,  when 
relating  the  scene  between  Othello  and  Desdemona,  and  of  which 
enough  is  there  written.     The  writer  has  sometimes  concluded  that 


118  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

those  frigid,  pale,  hard-hearted  specimens  of  femininity  with  which 
we  sometimes  meet,  and  who  are  barren, — sterile  as  they  are  cold, 
prevent  conception  by  the  very  perversity  of  their  wills.  Indeed, 
I  was  in  conversation  with  a  married  lady  only  a  short  time  ago, 
upon  the  subject  of  the  sterile  condition,  who  informed  me  that  an 
intelligent  lady  friend  of  her  own  had  assured  her  that  by  an  effort 
of  the  will  alone,  she  could  prevent  conception  in  her  own  person 
with  the  most  unerring  certainty.  We  are  all  aware,  no  doubt,  of 
the  very  powerful  effects  mental  conditions  have  over  the  power  of 
generation.  Who,  for  example,  ever  knew  conception  to  follow  a 
rape?  Who  has  not  noted  the  lack  of  fruitfulness  on  the  part  of  the 
people  during  great  and  depressing  calamities? 

In  Cymbeline,  after  Posthumus  supposed  he  had  lost  the  wager 
made  with  lachimo  in  regard  to  his  wife's  constancy,  he  gives  his 
apostasy  in  the  following  manner : 

"Is  there  no  way  for  man  to  be,  but  women  must  be  half  work- 
ers? We  are  all  bastards;  and  that  most  venerable  man,  which  I 
did  call  my  father,  was  I  know  not  where  when  I  was  stamped ; 
some  coiner  with  his  tools  made  me  a  counterfeit :  yet  my  mother 
seemed  the  Dian  of  that  time ;  so  doth  my  wife  the  nonpareil 
of  this. — O  vengeance,  vengeance!  Me  of  my  lawful  pleasure  she 
restrained,  and  pray'd  me  often  forbearance ;  did  it  with  a  pu- 
dency so  rosy,  the  sweet  view  on't  might  well  have  warm'd  old 
Saturn  ;  that  I  thought  her  as  chaste  as  unsunn'd  snow : — O,  all  the 
devils! — This  yellow  lachimo,  in  an  hour, — was't  not? — or  less, — at 
first;  perchance  he  spoke  not,  but,  like  a  fuU-acorn'd  boar,  a 
foaming  one,  cry'd  'Oh!'  and  mounted ;  found  no  opposition  but 
what  he  look'd  for  should  oppose,  and  she  should  from  encounter 
guard.  Could  I  find  out  the  woman's  part  in  me!  For  there's  no 
motion  that  tends  to  vice  in  man,  but  I  affirm  it  is  the  woman's 
part:  be  it  lying,  note  it,  the  woman's;  flattering,  hers;  deceiving, 
hers  ;  lust  and  rank  thoughts,  her,  hers  ;  revenge,  hers  ;  ambitions, 
coveting,  change  of  prides,  disdain,  nice  longings,  slanders,  muta- 
bility, all  faults  that  maybe  nam'd;  nay,  that  hell  knows,  why, 
hers,  in  part,  or  all ;  but  rather,  all ;  for  even  to  vice  they  are  not 
constant,  but  are  changing  still  one  vice  but  of  a  minute  old,  for 
one  not  half  so  old  as  that." 

There  is  one  point  in  the  foregoing  extract  that  we  may  say  one 
word  in  comment  upon,  and  that  is  in  regard  to  the  wish  on  the 


PSYCHOLOGY.  119 

part  of  the  beauteous  wife  of  Posthumus  to  abstain  from  copula- 
tion. This  has  been  a  source  of  disquietude  in  the  marital  relation 
no  doubt  many  thousands  of  times  since  the  world  began  —  not  so 
often  perhaps  from  a  lack  of  desire  on  the  part  of  the  wife  as  from 
an  excruciating  physical  suffering — produced  by  a  cause  undis- 
coverable  and  irremediable  by  the  parties  themselves,  and  a  mys- 
tery, many  times,  even  to  the  medical  profession  until  very  lately. 
I  have  reference  to  the  pain  given  to  the  female  during  the  act  of 
coitus  by  the  presence  of  vaginismus,  fissure  of  the  osteum  vagina, 
vaginitis,  cervicitis,  metritis,  oophoritis,  pelvic  cellulitis,  vulvar 
abscess,  urethral  caruncle,  etc.,  with  numerous  other  causes,  which 
are  the  source  of  dyspareunia,  and  often  lead  to  the  most  intense 
suffering  on  the  part  of  the  female  during  the  sexual  congress. 
Women  submit  to  very  much  more  physical  pain  from  this  source 
than  is  known  of  except  by  those  whose  business  it  is  to  alleviate 
as  much  as  may  be  the  ills  incident  to  the  condition.  It  is  quite 
likely  that  Posthumus  in  the  above  extract  had  no  adequate  con- 
ception of  the  real  motives  which  induced  his  wife  to  plead  for 
forbearance ;  as  women  will  often  bear  the  most  excruciating  tor- 
ment in  this  way  rather  than  give  grounds  (as  they  doubtless 
imagine)  of  having  themselves  suspected  of  sexual  imperfection. 
They  will  freely  disclose  all,  perhaps,  to  the  physician.  Women 
are,  as  a  general  proposition,  much  more  frank  and  sensible  in  this 
way  than  men. 

As  in  the  case  quoted,  wives  are  sometimes  made  the  victims  of 
false  accusations  by  the  ignorant  and  designing  when  laboring 
under  any  form  of  these  maladies,  and  there  is  none  who  can  or 
will  more  willingly  or  to  her  greater  profit  sympathize  with  her 
than  her  physician,  if  he  be  a  gentleman. 

Mrs.  Ford.  "How  shall  I  be  revenged  on  him?  I  think,  the 
best  way  were  to  entertain  him  with  hope,  till  the  wicked  fire  of 
lust  have  melted  him  in  his  own  grease. — Did  you  ever  hear  the 
like? 

Mrs.  Page.  To  thy  great  comfort  in  this  mystery  of  ill  opinions, 
here's  the  twin  brother  of  thy  letter.  But,  let  thine  inherit  first ; 
for,  I  protest,  mine  never  shall ;  I  will  find  you  twenty  lascivious 
turtles,  ere  one  chaste  man."  This  may  be  found  in  "Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,"  whilst  the  term  "when  ray  lust  has  dined,"  may  be 
found  as  the  expression  of  the  brutal  Cloten  in  "  Cymbeline."  All 
of  which  is  "respectfully  submitted." 


120  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

Shakespeare  makes  Hotspur  describe  the  physiognomic  expres- 
sion of  anger  thus:  "Then  his  cheek  looked  pale,  and  on  my  face 
he  turned  an  eye  of  death;"  whilst  to  the  picture  is  added,  "he 
hangs  the  lip  at  something,"  in  "Troilus  and  Cressida,"  and  "  why 
gnaw  you  so  your  nether  lip,"  in  "Othello."  The  first  and  last 
of  these  tell  of  intense  anger,  and  a  state  of  mind  portentous  of 
danger  to  he  who  provokes  it ;  whilst  the  other  tells  of  a  moody 
disposition,  which  may  be  appeased  by  conciliation. 

In  moderate  anger  the  color  of  the  cheeks  is  somewhat  hightened 
and  the  eyes  brighten ;  while  in  rage,  which  is  but  a  greater  degree 
of  anger,  the  face  may  become  deadly  pale,  the  voice  become  husky 
and  articulation  imperfect,  while  the  body  at  the  same  time  may 
tremble  from  head  to  foot.  This  tremulousness  is  not  however  the 
result  of  fear  or  cowardice. 

Of  envy  he  calls  it  "lean-faced,"  and  in  an  another  place  he  says 
"no  black  envy  shall  make  my  grave,"  while  yet  in  another  place 
he  uses  the  line  "  above  pale  envy's  threatening  reach," — in  all  of 
which  is  shown  the  acuteness  of  his  observation  or  else  his  wonder- 
ful intuition. 


CHAPTER    III 


NEUROLOGY. 


Epilepsy — Falling  Sickness — "  Rub  him  about  the  temples  "—Playing 
"  wolf  " — The  prototype  of  Othello — "  What,  did  Caesar  swoon?  " — The  epi- 
leptic zone — The  trade-mark  and  "plug"  hat — Mistaken  diagnosis — This 
apoplexy  will  certain  be  his  end — Gad's  Hill  and  Sir  John — I  talk  not  of 
his  majesty — It  is  a  kind  of  deafness — Croups — Drowning  as  a  consequence 
of  popular  delusion — The  mad-stone  and  its  votaries — Not  known  by  medi- 
cal men — The  treatment  as  good  as  any — "John  Jones,  of  Albany  "—Odon- 
tology— Set  up  the  bloody  flag  against  all  patience — The  nurse's  head-ache — 
"  Let  me  but  bind  it  hard  " — Varieties  of  the  malady — Sciatica— Syphilis  as 
a  complication — Gout— Plays  the  rogue  with  my  great  toe — Anorexia — Pa- 
ralysis— "  My  firm  nerves  shall  never  tremble." 

Under  the  heading  of  this  chapter  it  is  proposed  to  group  every- 
thing found  in  Shakespeare  pertaining  to  the  nervous  system, 
whether  physiological  or  pathological  in  its  nature.  Since  looking 
over  our  notes  upon  the  subject,  we  find  only  sufficient  matter  to 
make  a  very  brief  article  ; — and  such  as  it  is,  we  present  below : 

We  have  epilepsy  spoken  of  twice, — directly  in  the  case  of 
Othello  ;  and,  under  the  name  of  "falling  sickness  "  i^ijihe  case  of 
Caesar,  who  fell  down  during  his  harangue  to  the  Roman  populace. 

Othello  was  greatly  moved  at  the  statements  of  lago  as  to  the 
faithlessness  of  Desdemona.     The  occurrence  is  thus  stated: — 

larjo.  "  My  lord  is  fallen  into  an  epilepsy:  this  is  his  second 
fit ;  he  had  one  yesterday. 

Cassio.     Rub  him  about  the  temples. 

lago.  No,  forbear.  The  lethargy  must  have  his  quiet  course, 
if  not  he  foams  at  mouth  ;  and  by  and  by,  break  out  to  savage 
madness.  Look,  he  stirs :  do  you  withdraw  yourself  a  little  while  ; 
he  will  recover  straight." 

We  know  that  any  emotional  disturbance,  if  great,  is  often  an 
excitant   in   the    production    of    epileptiform    maladies; — exciting 


122  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

attacks  not  only  in  those  who  have  once  had  them,  but  also  being 
in  themselves  sufficient  to  set  up  the  morbid  phenomena  in  those 
previously  to  all  appearances  in  good  health :  thus, — I  knew  a  boy 
who  had  always  been  hearty,  but  got  epilepsy  of  the  most  con- 
firmed type  from  fright  occasioned  by  a  waggish  old  man  playing 
"wolf"  on  him;  and  a  man,  the  prototype  of  Othello,  who  sud- 
denly fell  down  in  an  epileptic  convulsion  through  sympathy  for 
his  wife,  who  was  in  the  throes  of  child-birth,  under  my  care ;  and 
only  yesterday,  whilst  listening  to  the  recitals  of  a  father  in  regard 
to  an  epileptic  child,  he  assured  me  that  the  least  mental  or  physical 
excitement  proved  of  the  greatest  danger  to  him.  It  has  been 
witnessed  in  but  the  above  single  instance  by  the  writer  in  the 
negro  race. 

In  "Julius  Csesar  "  we  find  a  paragraph  which  reads  in  this  way: 

Cassius.     "  But,  soft,  I  pray  you  ;  what!  did  Csesar  swoon? 

Casca.  He  fell  down  in  the  market-place,  and  foamed  at  the 
mouth,  and  was  speechless. 

^rutus.     'Tis  very  like  he  had  the  '  falling  sickness  ;'  what  said 
he  when  he  came  unto  himself? 

Casca.  Before  he  fell  down,  when  he  perceiv'd  the  common  herd 
was  glad  he  refused  the  crown,  he  pluck'd  me  ope  his  doublet,  and 
offered  them  his  throat  to  cut ; — and  so  he  fell  down." 

This  was  a  genuine  epileptic  seizure  no  doubt,  for  Caesar  speedily 
recovered,  and  went  about  his  apology  in  these  words :  and  if  he 
had  "done  or  said  anything  amiss,  he  desired  their  worships  to 
think  it  was  his  infirmity." 

This  Caesar  was  a  schemer  of  the  first  water,  and  he  could  well 
have  worked  upon  the  sympathies  of  his  audience  through  the  me- 
dium of  a  bit  of  Castile  soap,  as  do  some  of  our  lawyers  with 
capsicum.  To  be  ruler  of  an  empire  is  only  to  be  versed  in  trivial 
chicanery.  The  malady  was,  however,  not  assumed  in  this  in- 
stance. 

These  pictures  of  epilepsy,  though  terse,  are  yet  very  well 
drawn, — even  a  medical  pen  well  skilled  in  portraiture  could  not  do 
it  better  in  the  same  number  of  words. 

The  frequent  occurrence  of  the  seizures  of  epilepsy  had  been 
well  marked  by  Shakspeare.  "He  had  one  yesterday"  is  con- 
clusive evidence  that  the  phenomena  belonging  to  the  malady  had 
impressed  his  observation  so  as  to  enable  him  to  grasp  and  describe 


NEUROLOGY.  123 

its  salient  features ;  and  again,  behold  the  prophetic  declaration  as 
to  the  location  of  the  point  where  the  disease  had  its  origin  (if  it 
may  be  so  termed)  :  ^^  Rub  him  about  the  temples."  Prophetically 
upon  the  very  site  of  the  epileptic  zone  of  the  present  day,  though 
unfortunately  the  rubbing  at  that  point  might  be  the  means  of  pro- 
ducing rather  than  of  removing  the  malady. 

The  term  "falling  sickness"  is  yet  vernacular  among  the  com- 
mon people,  and  appears  to  have  been  plebian  even  in  the  days  of 
Cffisar.  It  is  so  called  of  course  from  the  fact  of  persons  thus 
afflicteH  falling  suddenly,  as  if  shot  or  struck  down ;  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  this  fact  a  charlatan  and  neighbor  of  my  own  has 
fabricated  a  trade-mark — a  man  falling  backwards,  hands  out- 
stretched, plug-hat  preceding  him  in  his  descent,  representing 
indeed  very  forcibly  an  idea.  Out  of  this  the  author  (if  such  he 
really  is)  has  made  a  fortune,  and  spe/if  it  also. 

In  "King  Lear,"  A.  ii.,  S.  ii.,  we  also  find  the  term  "epileptic 
visaged,"  as  applied  by  Kent  to  one  of  the  attendants  of  the  king's 
daughters,  thus  showing  that  the  peculiar  physiognomic  expression 
common  to  persons  thus  afflicted  did  not  escape  the  observation  of 
the  acute  eye  of  Shakespeare.  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  this  dull 
and  apathetic  expression  of  the  countenance  is  now  much  more 
marked  in  the  epileptic  than  formerly,  and  is  due,  no  doubt, 
mainly  to  the  excessive  use  of  the  bromides. 

In  Henry  IV.,  A.  iv.,  S.  iv.,  there  is  a  description  of  the  malady 
of  which  the  king  was  suffering,  wherein  the  diagnosis  of  apoplexy 
was  made : 

King.  "I  should  rejoice  now  at  this  happy  news,  and  now  ray 
sight  fails,  and  my  brain  is  giddy. — O  me,  come  near  me ;  now  I 
am  much  ill.     (He  falls  back.) 

Prince  Humphrey.     Comfort,  your  majesty! 

Clarence.     O  my  Toyal  father ! 

Westmoreland.     My  sovereign  lord,  cheer  up  yourself :  lookup! 

Warivick.  Be  patient,  princes :  you  do  know  these  fits  are  with 
his  royal  highness  very  ordinary.  Stand  from  him,  give  him  air. 
He'll  straight  be  well. 

Clarence.  No,  no;  he  cannot  long  hold  out  these  pangs. 
Th'  incessant  care  and  labor  of  his  mind  hath  wrought  the  mure, 
that  should  confine  it  in,  so  thin  that  life  looks  through  and  will 
break  out."  > 


124  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Prince  Humphrey  and  Clarence  are  talking  to  themselves  in  re- 
gard to  their  father's  condition,  when  Warwick  thus  addresses  them : 

"  Speak  lower,  princes,  for  the  king  recovers. 

Prince  Humphrey.     This  apoplexy  will,  certain,  be  his  end. 

King.  I  pray  you,  take  me  up,  and  bear  me  hence  into  some 
other  chamber :  softly,  pray.  (His  attendants  do  as  desired.)  Let 
there  be  no  noise  made,  my  gentle  friends ;  unless  some  dull  and 
favorable  hand  will  whisper  music  to  my  weary  spirit. 

Warwick.     Call  for  the  music  in  the  other  room.  ^ 

King.     Set  me  the  crown  upon  my  pillow  here. 

Clarence.     His  eye  is  hollow, — and  he  changes  much. 

Warwick.     Less  noise,  less  noise ! 

Enter  Prince  Henry.     How  doth  the  king  ? 

Prince  Humphrey.     Exceeding  ill. 

Wartoick.  Not  so  much  noise,  my  lords. — Sweet  princes,  speak 
low,  the  king,  your  father,  is  disposed  to  sleep." 

It  seems  probable  from  a  close  scrutiny  of  the  details  of  this  case, 
that  there  was  a  mistake  in  the  diagnosis ;  the  history  of  its  symp- 
tomatology would  go  as  near  to  making  it  one  of  epilepsy  perhaps 
as  of  apoplexy; — the  frequency  of  the  occurrence  of  his  "spells," 
his  rapid  recovery,  the  "wearied  spirit,"  his  subsequent  falling 
into  slumber,  his  speedy  recovery  of  consciousness,  etc.,  etc.,  all 
point  to  that  fact,  and  all  contradict  the  notion  of  apoplexy.  And 
the  idea  is  strengthened  as  to  the  error,  at  the  conclusion  of  his 
life,  where  he  is  so  clearly  conscious  as  to  say,  "  More  would  I,  but 
my  lungs  are  wasted  so,  that  strength  of  speech  is  utterly  denied 
me."  In  cases  of  apoplexy  of  such  severity  as  to  threaten  speedy 
death  the  coma  is  too  profound  to  admit  of  conscious  utterances 
like  these,  and  he  probably  had  no  pulmonary  lesion,  and  was  only 
suffering  from  simple  prostration  incident  to  the  nervous  malady. 

After  the  ludicrous  robbery  at  Gadshill,  in  which  Falsta:ff  and 
"Hal"  figured  so  noticeably,  "Sir  John"  was  brought  to  account 
for  it;  the  following  " war  of  words"  ensued  upon  the  occasion 
between  the  knight  and  Chief-Justice : 

Falstaff.  "An't  please  your  lordship,  I  hear  his  majesty  is  re- 
turned with  some  discomfort  from  Wales. 

Chief-Justice.  1  talk  not  of  his  majesty. — You  would  not  come 
when  I  sent  for  you. 


NEUROLOGY.  125 

Falstaf.  And  I  hear,  moreover,  his  highness  is  fallen  into  this 
same  whoreson  apoplexy. 

Chief- Justice.  Well,  heaven  mend  him.  I  pray  you,  let  me 
speak  with  you. 

Falstaff.  This  apoplexy  is,  as  I  take  it,  a  kind  of  lethargy,  an't 
please  your  lordship  ;  a  kind  o'  sleeping  in  the  blood,  a  whoreson 
tingling. 

Chief- Justice.     What  tell  you  me  of  it?    be  it  as  it  is. 

Falstaff.  It  had  its  original  from  much  grief;  from  study,  and 
perturbation  of  the  brain ;  I  have  read  the  cause  of  its  effects  in 
Galen:  it  is  a  kind  of  deafness. 

Chief-Justice.  I  think  you  are  fallen  into  the  disease,  for  you 
hear  not  what  I  say  to  yow. 

Falstaff.  Very  well,  my  lord,  very  well ;  rather,  an't  please  you, 
it  is  the  disease  of  not  listening,  the  malady  that  I  am  troubled 
withal." 

Shakespeare  has  here  displayed  the  commendable  and  rare  faculty 
of  not  contradicting  himself — calling  it  in  the  mouth  of  Falstaff 
apoplexy,  also,  as  the  malady  of  which  Henry  the  Fourth  was  the 
victim.  It  will  be  noted  by  the  reader  that  Hal,  the  companion  of 
Sir  John  Falstaff,  was  the  successor  of  his  father  as  ruler  of  Brit- 
ain and  ascended  the  throne  as  Henry  the  Fifth.  There  is  not  more 
laughable  material  found  in  the  writings  of  any  writer  in  any  lan- 
guage than  is  found  in  Shakespeare  in  the  relations  between  Hal 
and  Sir  John. 

That  very  unsatisfactory  term,  "cramp,"  is  used  three  times  in 
"The  Tempest"  —  each  time,  save  one,  as  a  punishment  to  the 
sour-visaged  nondescript,  Calaban ;  in  the  other,  Stephano  com- 
plains of  being  not  himself,  but  a  "  cramp,"  at  the  conclusion  of  his 
debauch,  after  the  shipwreck.  In  "As  You  Like  It,"  Rosalind,  in 
discoursing  on  the  improbabilities  of  a  man's  dying  in  a  love-cause, 
relates  a  historic  reminiscence  which  illustrates  well  an  idea  yet 
largely  prevalent  among  mankind,  namely — that  "  cramp  "  is  a  very 
fruitful  source  of  danger  to  those  who  go  into  deep  water ;  she 
says,  "  Leander,  he  would  have  lived  many  a  fair  year,  though  Hero 
had  turned  nun,  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  hot  midsummer  night ;  for, 
good  youth,  he  went  but  forth  to  wash  himself  in  the  Hellespont, 
and  being  taken  with  the  cramp,  was  drowned."  Why  the  notion 
prevails   so  generally,  that  "cramp"  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  these 


126  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

accidents,  has  long  been  a  mj^'stery  to  me  ;  I  have  never  yet  seen  a 
person  who  had  been  attacked  thus  whilst  in  water,  nor  have  I  con- 
versed with  a  person  who  has.  Why  do  we  not  see  persons  who  get 
cramp  in  shallow  water,  in  a  shower-bath,  etc.,  and  who  come  out 
to  tell  the  story?  If  all  the  cases  we  read  of  in  the  public  prints 
are  really  the  result  of  a  mishap  of  that  nature,  then  "aquatic 
cramp"  is  as  surely  fatal  as  fully  established  rabies.  It  will  be 
seen,  therefore,  that  though  danger  from  this  source  has  age  to 
lend  plausibility  and  dignity  to  its  pretensions, — yet  it  really  de- 
serves a  place  side  by  side  with  the  wide-spread  mad-stone  delusions- 
It  is  the  proper  province  of  medical  men  on  all  occasions  to  dis- 
abuse the  public  mind  of  these  absurdities,  because  life  is  often  sac- 
rificed at  the  shrine  of  these  stupid  errors.  This  is  particularly  so 
with  the  substance  which  the  vulgar  know  as  a  mad-stone, — valuable 
time  being  wasted  in  its  application  which  ought  to  be  employed  in 
calling  a  surgeon.  It  is  singular  in  the  extreme  to  note  the  hold  this 
notion  has  upon  the  public  mind  ;  and  that  too  upon  those  whose  na- 
tive intellect  ought  to  be  a  guarantee  of  better  things  ; — read  the  fol- 
lowing from  a  leading  New  York  Journal,  July  3d,  18 — .  "With 
this  hot  weather,  and  mad  dogs,  comes  the  usual  complement  of 
wonderful  stories  of  extraordinary  cures  of  hydrophobia  by  means 
of  mad-stones.  In  many  parts  of  the  country,  especially  in  the  West 
and  South,  the  majority  of  the  people  have  implicit  confidence  in 
the  efficacy  of  these  stones  in  counteracting  the  effects  of  wounds 
inflicted  by  rabid  animals.  In  some  families,  stones  of  this  char- 
acter have  been  possessed  for  a  great  number  of  years,  and  have 
acquired  a  wide-spread  local  celebrity.  Every  summer  numerous 
accounts  are  published  of  cures  wrought  by  mad-stones,  and  these 
generally  give  the  names  of  the  persons  cured,  with  other  circum- 
stances which  go  to  show  that  the  persons  printing  the  accounts 
have  entire  faith  in  the  authenticity  of  the  cases  which  they  chroni- 
cle. One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  these  stones  is  owned  by  a 
Mrs.  Chastria,  living  near  Hodgenville,  Kentucky.  She  calls  it  a 
Chinese  stone.  It  is  said  that  when  applied  to  a  person  bitten  by 
a  mad  dog,  or  poisonous  snake,  this  stone  adheres  so  firmly  that  it 
cannot  be  drawn  off  without  considerable  effort,  until  it  has  ab- 
sorbed all  the  poison  from  the  wound.  This  stone  is  reported  to 
have  performed  many  cures,  the  last  being  that  of  a  Miss  Prather, 
to  whom  it  was  applied  while  she  was  in  a  state  of  raging  madness. 
It  immediately  stuck  fast,  where  it  remained  four  days,  when  it 


NEUROLOGY.  127 

dropped  off,  and  the  patient  recovered.     Stories  of  a  like  nature 
are  told  of  mad-stones  in  various  parts  of  the  country." 

Now,  though  the  foregoing  quotation  is  from  one  of  the  leading 
New  York  weeklies,  not  one  word  is  said  hy  the  writer  to  tell  us 
that  he  too  is  not  a  believer  in  this  mad-stone  delusion.  If  there 
really  existed  a  remedy  so  potent  for  good  in  this  terrible  malady, 
why  should  not  a  portion  of  it,  at  least,  be  found  in  the  hands  of 
the  medical  profession?  How  happens  it  that  articles  of  such  incal- 
culable value  should  always  happen  to  be  the  property  of  some 
dilapidated  old  crone  in  some  immensely  obscure  corner  of  the 
earth?  Who  ever  met  a  regular  physician  who  possessed  a  mad- 
stone,  or  had  beheld  wonders  performed  by  them?  It  is  time  intel- 
ligent  people,  at  least,  should  realize  the  fact  that  there  is  no  such  a 
thing  in  existence  as  the  thing  reputed  a  mad-stone.  No  doubt  but 
there  are  many  things  called  such,  as  for  instance  a  bit  of  brick-bat, 
a  lump  of  hardened  clay,  chalk,  or  a  bit  of  calcined  bone,  etc., — 
one  as  good  as  the  other  so  long  as  tjie  delusion  is  maintained. 
After  all,  however,  as  disgusting  as  the  popular  ignorance  is  in  the 
minds  of  reflecting  persons, — especially  so  to  professional  men,  it 
may  have  a  share  of  bliss  in  it, — because  when  we  reflect  that  the 
mind  of  him  who  may  be  bitten  by  a  dog, — mad,  or  one  supposed 
to  be  mad,  may  by  the  application  of  one  of  these  substances  be 
rendered  satisfied  as  to  his  future  security — that  certainly  is  a 
boon  to  the  nineteen  that  may  be  bitten  by  real  rabid  animals 
but  who  never  have  symptoms  of  rabies,  whilst  the  twentieth  one, 
who  has  it  applied,  dies ; — just  the  termination  of  these  cases  as 
when  left  entirely  to  nature.  Viewing  it  then  in  this  way,  we 
may  not  consider  it  such  bad  treatment  after  all,  as  neither  med- 
icine nor  surgery  could  make  a  better  exhibit  in  a  malady  so 
dreadful.  To  be  sure  surgical  attention,  timely  applied,  might 
have  saved  the  one  fatal  case  ;  but  considering  the  uncertainties  of 
whether  even  the  most  scientific  assistance  has  ever  obviated  death 
in  rabies,  it  is  questionable  whether  intense  expectancy  and  place- 
bos (as  the  mad-stone)  in  the  conduct  of  these  cases  is  not,  in  the 
present  state  of  our  knowledge,  about  as  good  a  course  as  any ; 
though  one  can  hardly  forbear  wishing  to  be  rid  of  the  ignorance 
which  persists  in  the  belief  in  their  reality — more  so  when  it  is  of 
that  presumptuous  kind  which  prompted  the  fellow  to  leave  this 
inscription  on  my  office  slate,  a  short  time  ago:  "Doctor,  don't 
you  want  to  buy  a  mad-stone?  John  Jones,  Albany,  Mo." 


128  SHAKESPEARE   AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

I  beg  the  reader's  pardon  for  this  long  irrelevancy,  but  the  sub- 
ject forced  itself  upon  me  in  this  connection,  and  it  was  thought 
the  space  might  not  be  filled  with  more  useful  matter.  Odontalgia 
is  spoken  of  under  the  common  term  "toothache"  twice  or  more 
in  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing," — once  as  a  "raging  tooth,"  in 
A.  iii.,  S.  iii.,  Othello, — and  in  "Cymbeline"  is  repeated  the  old 
adage  that  "  he  that  sleeps  feels  not  the  toothache."  And  that 
popular  complaint,  palpitation,  which  often  causes  so  great  an 
alarm  and  so  little  harm,  among  the  uninform'd,  is  noticed  as  a 
coincidence  of  jealousy  in  the  case  of  Leontes.  He  is  so  particular 
in  regard  to  the  friendship  between  his  queen  and  friend,  that  he 
thinks  that  to  "mingle  friendships  far  is  to  mingle  bloods,"  and  he 
gets  tremor  cordis  accordingly;  his  heart  danced,  but  "not  for 
joy — not  joy."  He  is  not  the  only  man,  poor  soul,  whose  heart  has 
been  made  to  "palpitate"  by  the  actions  of  a  flirt.  Of  colic,  we 
find  the  following  in  Coriolanus ;  it  is  a  conversation  between 
Menenius  and  Brutus, — the  latter  being  one  of  the  "  tribunes  of 
the  people:" 

Brutus.     "Come,  sir,  come;  we  know  you  well  enough. 

Menenius.  You  know  neither  me,  yourselves,  nor  anything. 
"When  you  are  hearing  a  matter  between  party  and  party,  if  you 
chance  to  be  pinched  with  the  colic,  you  make  faces  like  mummers, 
set  up  the  bloody  flag  against  all  patience,  and  in  roaring  for  a 
chamber-pot  dismiss  the  controversy."  :  /   ) 

This  was  said  to  illustrate  the  want  of  stability  in  a  Roman  noble- 
man,— if  such  a  character  as  a  nobleman  could  exist  in  a  republic, 
which  I  believe  Eome  was  at  that  time ;  and  shows  the  contempt 
with  which  they  view'd  physical  sufferings. 

In  regard  to  cephalalgia,  the  good  old  nurse  of  Juliet  gives  us 
this:  "What  a  head  have  I;  lord,  how  it  aches:  it  beats  as  it 
would  fall  in  twenty  pieces.  My  back !  o'  t'  other  side. — O,  my 
back,  my  back !  Beshrew  your  heart  for  sending  me  about  to  catch 
my  death." 

Othello  tells  Desderaona,  "  I  have  a  pain  upon  my  forehead  here. 

Desdemona.  Faith,  that's  with  watching;  'twill  away  again:  let  me 
but  bind  it  hard,  within  this  hour  it  will  be  well."  Desdemona  was 
domestic.  The  fashion  of  compressing  the  head  to  relieve  pain  in 
the  different  regions  of  it  has  perhaps  always  been  practiced.  This 
is  not   to   be   wondered   at   when   we   remember  how  few  remedies 


NEUROLOGY.  1 29 

there  are  in  the  way  of  medicine  even  in  our  advanced  age,  tliat 
will  afford  it  relief — some  of  its  forms  at  least.  Indeed  the  true 
pathology  of  headaches  is  difficult  to  make  out  in  most  cases ; 
therefore  our  therapeutics  have  had  little  basis  except  empiricism 
until  lately,  when  the  ophthalmoscope  has  done  something  to  elu- 
cidate the  uncertainty. 

Headaches  commonly  depend  upon  some  internal  cause — some 
inter-cranial  cause,  though  not  always.  The  pain  may  be  continual, 
or  it  may  be  occasional  or  periodic ;  it  may  be  aggravated  or  ameli- 
orated according  to  the  position  of  the  body.  This  pertains  only 
to  the  complaint  in  some  of  its  forms.  Headache  may  occupy  one 
particular  region,  or  it  may  include  the  whole  of  the  head.  The 
latter  is  rare.  The  pain  may  have  any  one  of  the  characteristics, 
as  acute,  throbbing,  dull,  etc.,  and  may  have  particular  hours  or 
days  for  its  recurrence.  These  varied  characteristics  of  the  pain 
have  certain  significance  attached  to  them,  from  the  fact  of  their 
being  indices  to  the  causation  of  the  malady.  Thus,  the  periodic 
variety  pointing  nearly  always  to  a  sympathetic  or  constitutional 
origin,  while  the  continuous  or  persistent  form  more  commonly  has 
as  its  etiological  factor  some  morbid  process  connected  directlj'- 
with  the  head^ — (brain,  membranes,  etc.) 

Some  constitutional  diseases  manifest  themselves  particularly  in 
the  way  of  localizing  their  ravages  upon  the  organs  of  mentation, 
and  thus  producing  pain  in  the  part.  Of  these,  tubercle  and 
syphilis  are  examples.  The  pain  in  these,  particularly  the  last, 
may  have  something  of  a  periodicity  attached  to  it,  but  not  the 
regularity  which  marks  those  cases  of  brow  ague,  etc.,  which  have 
a  malarial  origin. 

It  would  commonly  be  as  well  in  our  divisions  as  to  the  patho- 
logical status  of  headaches  to  say  that  they  are  always  accompanied 
by,  and  depend  largely  for  their  characteristic  symptoms  upon,  one 
of  only  two  pathological  conditions — anemia  or  hyperemia.  Of 
course,  in  determining  to  which  of  these  varieties  a  given  case  be- 
longs we  have  to  weigh  well  the  accompanying  conditions, — and 
here  the  ophthalmoscope  will  always  be  found  a  valuable  aid  in 
making  the  diagnosis.  Unfortunately,  its  use  is  now  restricted  to 
the  hands  almost  exclusively  of  the  specialist ;  but  it  will  in  time 
find  a  broader  field  in  general  practice. 

Of  the  medicines  which  do  most  for  headaches,  morphine  is  cer- 
tainly most  indispensable  in  the  more  usual  forms.     Arsenic,  in  the 


130  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

form  of  Fowler's  solution,  as  a  remedy  in  the  yet  more  persistent 
cases,  while  iodide  of  potassium  is  indispensable  to  the  treatment 
of  many  forms, — of  course  more  so  in  the  specific  varieties,  as  above 
named. 

Othello's  headache  was,  it  seems,  of  a  transitory  character,  and 
would  have  yielded  to  a  dose  of  morphine. 

In  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  and  also  in  "  Timon  of  Athens," 
sciatica  is  spoken  of ; — in  the  latter  the  language  is  as  follows : 
"  Plagues,  incident  to  men,  your  potent  and  infectious  fevers  heap 
on  Athens !  thou  cold  sciatica,  cripple  our  senators,  that  their  limbs 
may  halt  as  lamely  as  their  manners."  Sciatica,  in  the  drama  first 
referred  to,  was  located  in  the  "  hip  "  of  course,  and  was  in  the 
person  of  a  character  said  to  be  also  syphilitic, — a  complexity  in 
these  cases  quite  common  now,  and  common  enough  then  it  seems 
to  fall  under  the  non- medical  notice  of  Shakespeare. 

Titania,  in  "  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  thus  muses:  "  The 
moon,  the  governess  of  floods,  pale  in  her  anger,  washes  all  the  air, 
that  rheumatic  diseases  do  abound,"  whilst  the  term  "rheumatic" 
is  used  twice  to  illustrate  the  little  querulous  bouts  between  Fal- 
staff  and  his  "  Doll."  Venus  even  allows  that  she  is  neither  "  rheu- 
matic "  nor  "  cold  "  in  her  efforts  to  arouse  her  bashful  boy  Adonis 
to  the  "  sticking  point." 

Now  for  the  gout : 

"  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream."  "  Friend  has  thou  none  ;  for 
thine  own  bowels,  which  do  call  thee  sire,  the  mere  effusion  of  thy 
proper  loins,  do  curse  the  gout,"  whilst  the  little  vixen,  Rosalind, 
who  had  a  very  old  head  on  a  very  pretty  body  doubtless,  talks 
thus: 

Orlando.     "  Who  ambles  time  withal? 

Rosalind.  With  a  priest  that  lacks  Latin,  and  a  rich  man  that 
hath  not  the  gout:  for  the  one  sleeps  easily  because  he  cannot 
study,  and  the  other  lives  merrily  because  he  feels  no  pain." 

Falstaff  even  knows  a  "  thing  or  two"  about  it  also: 

Falstaff.  "  I  can  get  no  remedy  against  this  consumption  of  the 
purse :  borrowing  only  lingers  and  lingers  it  out,  but  the  desire  is 
incurable;  go  bear  this  letter  to  my  lord  of  Lancaster;  this  to  the 
prince  ;  this  to  the  earl  of  Westmoreland  ;  and  this  to  old  Mistress 
Ursula,  whom  I  have  weekly  sworn  to  marry  since  I  perceived  the 
first  white  hair  on  my  chin.  About  it:  you  know  where  to  find  me. 
(Exit  Page.)     A  pox  of  this  gout!  or,  a  gout  of  this  pox!  for  the 


NEUROLOGY.  131 

one  or  the  other,  plays  the  rogue  with  my  great  toe !  'Tis  no  mat- 
ter, if  I  do  halt ;  I  have  the  wars  for  my  color,  and  my  pension 
shall  seem  the  more  reasonable." 

It  seems  probable  that  a  "gout  of  this  pock"  was  much  the 
more  reasonable  exclamation  for  Sir  John  to  make,  as  the  easy  virtue 
of  Mrs.  Tear-sheet,  and  others  perhaps  of  the  knight's  female 
friends,  rendered  its  acquirement  much  easier  than  that  of  the 
other.  It  certainly  is  not  a  common  point — the  "  great  toe,''  in 
which  to  locate  a  local  syphilitic  lesion ;  but  yet,  it  presents  itself 
under  such  varied  forms,  that  we  need  not  be  at  a  loss  to  find  it 
cropping  out  at  any  place  in  the  person  of  such  an  old  sinner  as  he. 

The  term  "gouty  "  is  used  incidentally  in  "  Timon  of  Athens," 
and  in  "  Cymbeline,"  thus: 

Scene:  a  Prison. 

Jailer.  "  You  shall  not  now  be  stolen;  you  have  locks  upon 
you,  so  graze  as  you  find  pasture. 

2d  Jailer.     Ay,  or  stomachs. 

Posthumus.  fin  Jail.)  Most  welcome,  bondage,  for  thou  art 
a  way,  I  think,  to  libertj'.  Yet  am  I  better  than  one  that's  sick 
o'  the  gout ;  since  he  had  rather  groan  so  in  perpetuity,  than  be 
cured  by  the  sure  physician,  death,  who  is  the  key  t'  unbar  these 
locks."  This  extract  shadows  the  obstinate  nature  of  gout, — points 
to  the  trouble  of  both  physician  and  patient,  and  is  altogether  a 
good  simile. 

v_  Anorexia,  which,  like  thirst,  may  be  classed  among  the  nervous 
phenomena,  is  mentioned  definitely  but  once  in  Shakspeare : 

"  To  her,  my  lord,  was  I  betroth' d  ere  I  saw  Hermia!  but,  like 
in  sickness,  I  did  loath  this  food ;  but  as  in  health,  came  to  my 
natural  taste." — "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  A.  iv.,  S.  i. 

Paralysis  is  spoken  of  three  times  ;  once  by  the  duke  of  York  in 
"Richard  the  Second,"  who  would  have  chastis'd  Bolingbrokc  had 
his  arm  not  been  "  prisoner  to  the  palsy ;  "  and  again  Lord  Say, 
when  brought  before  Jack  Cade,  when  accused  of  trembling,  denied 
it,  saying  "  the  palsy  and  not  fear  provoketh  me."  It  is  also  noted 
in  "  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  where  Ulysses  describes  the  jests  of 
Patroclus — the  latter  personifying  old  Nestor,  for  the  merriment 
of  Achilles. 

In  the  "Tempest"  we  find,  "the  nerves  are  in  their  infancy 
again,  and  have  no  vigor  in  them,"  having  reference  merely  to  a 
state  of  debility;  and  in  "Macbeth"  we  have,  "Take  any  shape 
but  that,  and  my  firm  nerves  shall  never  tremble." 


CHAPTER    IV. 


PHARMACOLOGIA. 


Sleepy  Drinks — Foster  nurse  of  Nature — A  liberal  offer — A  doctor's  knowl- 
edge appreciated — What? — The  perfumed  dandy — Unbearable  nonsense — 
What's  ia't? — Mandragora — Drowsy  syrups — Superstition — Toxicology — The 
trusty  pistol — Fashions  of  suicide — Difficulty  of  purchase — Poisoned  by  a 
monk — This  tyrant  fever — Swinstead  abbey — Strange  fantasies — North  winds 
— A  compound — Monks  as  physicians — Cardinal  Beaufort  —  Liebreich  an- 
ticipated— Republished — Was  it  chloral? — Comparison  of  conditions — Care- 
fully noted — Meagre  were  his  looks — What,  ho! — Famine  is  in  thy  cheek — 
Death's  pale  flag — Thus  with  a  kiss — A  nest  of  Death — A  slight  discrepancy — 
Oxalic  acid — Discovery  repeats  itself — The  insane  root — Drugging  the  pos- 
set— "Hashish" — The  unction  of  a  mountebank — Rabies  canina — Curara — 
From  what  derived?— A  failure  apprehended — Trap  with  double  triggers — 
Fencing  match — An  unlooked  for  termination — A  jealous  sister — Kills  and 
pains  not — Immortal  longings — Easy  ways  to  die — Zest  to  a  tragedy — A  spe- 
cific— Alconcito — A  royal  student — Soliloquy— Most  likely  I  did — Moreton 
preceded. 

In  arranging  a  chapter  on  pharmacology,  it  is  the  design  to  divide 
it  into  two  portions: — the  first  to  include  all  articles  of  the  materia 
medica  proper, — the  other  to  be  devoted  to  toxicology.  The  first  is 
brief,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  material  for  its  elaboration  is 
limited ;  the  material  for  the  latter,  being  more  voluminous,  will 
extend  the  chapter  to  some  length. 

Narcotic  remedies  seem  to  have  had  an  extended  use  in  past  ages, 
as  we  have  them  mentioned  frequently  in  older  writers,  and  pretty 
frequently  in  Shakespeare.  Archidamus  in  the  "Winter's  Tale  " 
says  :  "I  don't  know  what  to  say. — We  will  give  you  sleepy  drinks, 
that  your  senses,  unintelligent  of  our  insufficience,  may  though  they 
cannot  praise  us,  as  little  accuse  us." 

This  "  sleepy  drink  "  probably  referred  to  some  form  of  alcoholic 
intoxicant,  as  the  parties  to  the  conversation  belong  to  the  revelers 
of  a  royal  court. 

132 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  133 

The  "sleeping  potion"  of  Friar  Laurence  will  be  noticed  more 
fully  hereafter. 

In  regard  to  treating  Lear  for  his  disordered  intellect,  we  find  the 
following  in  A.  iv.  of  that  play : 

Cordelia.  "Alack!  'tis  he:  why,  he  was  met  even  now,  as  mad 
as  the  vex'd  sea:  singing  aloud;  crown'd  with  rank  fumiter  and 
furrow  weeds,  with  hoar-docks,  hemlock,  nettles,  cuckoo-flowers, 
darnel,  and  all  the  idle  weeds  that  grow.  A  century  send  forth ; 
search  every  acre  in  the  high-grown  field,  and  bring  him  to  our  eye. 
(Exit  an  officer.)  What  can  man's  wisdom  (do)  in  the  restoring  his 
bereaved  sense?     He  that  helps  him,  take  all  my  outerward  worth. 

Doctor.  There  is  medicines,  madam :  Our  foster-nurse  of  na- 
ture is  repose,  the  which  he  lacks  ;  that  to  provoke  in  him  are  many 
simples  operative,  whose  power  will  close  the  eye  of  anguish. 

Cordelia.  All  bless'd  secrets,  all  you  unpublish'd  virtues  of  the 
larth,  spring  with  my  tears!  be  aidant  and  remediate,  in  the  good 
man's  distress." 

Then  occurs  a  time  when  they  are  all  absorbed  in  business,  but 
Cordelia  has  not  forgotten  old  Lear,  who,  it  appears,  she  had  left 
in  the  care  of  the  doctor,  for  she  makes  inquiry,  "how  does  the 
king?  doctor. 

Doctor.     Madam,  (he)  sleeps  still. 

Cordelia.  O,  you  kind  gods,  cure  this  great  breach  in  his  abused 
nature ! 

Doctor.  So  please  your  majesty  that  we  may  wake  the  king?  he 
hath  slept  long. 

Cordelia.  Be  govern'd  by  your  knowledge,  and  proceed  i'  the 
sway  of  your  own  will.     Is  he  array'd? 

Doctor.  Ay,  madam  ;  in  the  heaviness  of  his  sleep,  we  put  fresh 
garments  on  him. 

Kent.  Good  madam,  be  by  when  we  do  awake  him ;  I  doubt  not 
of  his  temperance. 

Cordelia.     Very  well.     (Music.) 

Doctor.     Please  you,  draw  near. — Louder  the  music  there. 

Cordelia.     He  wakes,  speak  to  him. 

Doctor.     Madam,  do  you,  'tis  fittest. 

Cordelia.  How  does  my  royal  lord?  How  fares  your  majesty? 
Sir,  do  you  know  me? 

Lear.     You  are  a  spirit,  I  know.     Where  did  you  die? 


134  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

Cordelia.     Still,  still,  far  wide. 

Doctor.     He's  scarce  awake.     Let  him  alone  awhile. 

Lear.  Where  have  I  been?  Where  am  I?  I  am  a  verj  foolish, 
fond  old  man,  four-score  and  upwards,  not  one  hour  more  nor  less, 
and  to  deal  plainly,  I  fear  I  am  not  in  my  perfect  mind." 

Cordelia  becomes  pathetic,  as  we  may  very  well  imagine,  and  the 
kind  physician  requests  her  to  "be  comfortable,  madam;  the  great 
rage,  you  see,  is  cur'd  in  him ;  and  yet  it  is  dangerous  to  make  him 
even  o'er  the  time  he  has  lost.  Desire  him  to  go  in ;  trouble  him  no 
more  till  further  settling." 

Now,  good  my  prof essional  reader,  what  "simple"  used  the  doc- 
tor wherewith  he  "closed  the  eye  of  anguish"  in  the  foregoing 
case?  Was  it  opium,  chloral  hydrate,  bromide  of  potassium?  — 
What?  Most  likely  some  vegetable  narcotic,  as  such  remedies  as 
"hemlock"  and  other  powerful  agents  of  that  class  were  much  in 
vogue  at  that  day.  The  doctor  clearlj''  presented  the  very  best  plan 
of  treatment — enunciating  the  principle  upon  which  the  successful 
conduct  of  all  such  cases  depends,  namely,  the  "foster-nurse  of 
nature — repose.''^  I  doubt  much,  however,  whether  the  gentle  Cor- 
delia did  not  forget  the  very  fair  promise  in  regard  to  the  bestowal 
of  her  "outward  worth,"  as  my  personal  experience  teaches  me  to 
regard  with  mistrust  those  who  make  loud  pretensions  of  how  hand- 
somely we  are  to  be  paid — it  usually  culminating  in  the  doctor  fail- 
ing of  any  fee  at  all,  and  with  very  little  gratitude  for  his  services. 
Regarding  the  pleasant  effects  of  music  on  the  weary  mind  and 
spirits,  notice  is  taken  of  it  in  "  The  Tempest,"  thus: — "A  solemn 
air,  and  the  best  comforter  to  an  unsettled  fancy,  cure  thy  brains  ;" 
and  in  the  death-bed  scene  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  where  he  saj^s — 
"let  there  be  no  noise  made,  my  friends;  unless  some  dull  and 
favorable  hand  will  whisper  music  to  my  weary  spirit."  In  Buck- 
nill's  "Mad  Folk  of  Shakespeare "  is  to  be  found  a  long  chapter  on 
the  beneficial  effects  of  music  in  the  treatment  of  the  insane,  in 
both  ancient  and  modern  times. 

Hotspur's  contempt  for  the  perfumed  dandy  who  asserted  that 
"parmaceti  for  an  inward  bruise"  was  "the  sovereign' st  thing  on 
earth,"  was  commcndal)le ;  though  it  is  exceedingly^  distasteful,  we 
often  are  compelled  to  sit  by  in  silence,  and  hear  some  vulgar  igno- 
ramus expatiate  upon  the  value  of  this  or  that  or  the  other  pro- 
cedure in  medicine  or  surgery — ignoring  our  presence,  and  talking 


PHARMACOLOGIA,  135 

with  the  face  as  of  one  with  authority.  What  doctor  is  there  who 
has  not  had  to  learn,  over,  many  times,  from  the  lips  of  some  foolish 
old  woman,  matters  in  his  profession  which,  if  not  absurd  or  ridicu- 
lous, are  at  most  puerile ; — swallowing  them  with  the  gravity  of  one 
who  is  listening  to  his  sentence  to  the  gallows?  What  unbearable 
nonsense  do  we  tolerate  and  sometimes  tacitly  assent  to  for  the 
privilege  of  being  physicians?  I  set  it  down  in  print — in  bold  and 
unmistakable  language,  that  the  doctor  occupies  the  most  unenvi- 
able position  of  any  member  of  modern  society. 

"My  noble  mistress,  here's  a  box;  I  had  it  from  the  queen: 
what's  in  't  is  precious  ;  if  you  are  sick  at  sea,  or  stomach-qualm' d 
at  land,  a  dram  of  this  will  drive  away  distemper."  "  Cymbeline," 
A.  iii.,  S.  V. 

The  "  what's  in't  "  must  have  been  bromide  of  potassium,  good 
wine,  or  else  "  effervescing  nitrate  of  cereum,"  as  these  are  said  to 
be  the  best  remedial  measures  other  than  "  position,"  if  it  is  remem- 
bered aright.  Sea-sickness  will  likely  always  remain,  in  defiance  of 
the  combat  waged  with  it  by  therapeutics. 

The  soliloquy  of  Juliet,  as  to  how  she  should  feel  in  the  event  of 
her  waking  too  soon  and  finding  herself  among  the  dead  of  "all 
the  Capulets,"  evokes  this  language: 

"  Alack,  alack!  is  it  not  like  that  I,  so  early  waking, — what  with 
loathsome  smells,  and  shrieks  like  mandrakes  torn  out  of  the  earth, 
that  living  mortals  hearing  them,  run  mad?" 

In  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  we  find,  "give  me  to  drink  man- 
dragora,  that  I  might  sleep  out  this  great  gap  of  time,"  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Egypt's  voluptuous  queen.  The  first  only  needs  notice  from 
the  fact  of  the  superstition  concerning  it  by  the  people  of  the  middle 
ages, — the  latter  only  for  that  of  its  early  employment  as  a 
remedy, — especially  for  its  soporific  qualities,  which  were  some- 
what analagous  to  the  poppy  it  is  supposed. 

"  Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora,  nor  all  the  dreamy  syrups  of  the 
world,  shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep,  which  thou 
ow'dst  j^esterday,"  sa3^s  the  villain  lago,  when  he  noted  the  tor- 
tured Othello  approaching  him. 

Mandragora  is  not  used  as  a  medicine  to  any  considerable  extent 
at  the  present  day.  It  is  indigenous  to  European  countries,  and 
not  officinal  in  the  United  States.  In  illustration  of  the  su])er- 
stitious  notions  connected  with  the  may-apple,  the  duke  of  Suffolk, 
in  execrating  the  king  for  banishing  him,  uses  this  term, — "  would 


136 


SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 


curses  kill  as  cloth  the  mandrake's  groan" — an  idea  derived  from  a 
mythological  source,  and  founded  on  the  notion  that  the  may-apple 
sprang  from  the  remains  of  a  dead  criminal,  and  that  when  it  was 
drawn  from  the  earth  for  the  use  of  man,  something  must  die.  To 
accomplish  the  extraction  of  the  root  with  the  least  detriment  to 
animal  existence,  it  was  customary  to  loosen  the  soil  about  its  roots, 
tie  a  worthless  dog  to  it  and  then  run  away,  stopping  the  ears  to 
avoid  hearing  the  shriek.     The  dog  surely  died. 


"  The  dog  surely  died." 
The  "poultice"  as  a  remedy  for  "  aching  bones  "  is  suggested 

by  "Nurse"  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet." 

We  come  now  to  the  more  voluminous,  and  we  hope  the  more  in- 
teresting, portion  of  this  chapter — Part  Second — or  that  which  treats 
more  especially  of  the  toxic  materials  used  in  the  writings  of 
Shakespeare. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  in  a  work  abounding  in  tragedies, 
and  one  in  which  women  and  sentiment  played  so  conspicuous  a 
part,  that  poisons  would  occupy  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  cata- 
logue of  means  whereby  to  put  a  quietus  to  a  weary  existence, — 
and  such  is  the  fact.  It  is  more  common  now,  for  those  who  reach 
a  point  from  which  they  view  life  as  a  failure,  to  resort  to  means 
more  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  the  age ;  therefore  they  usually 
resort  to  that  ever  handy  and  speedy  agent,  a  trusty  pistol ;  this 
however  is  more  strikingly  true  of  suicide  in  America,  whilst  the 
poisons  are  yet  often  resorted  to  in  Europe,  and  among  other 
civilized  nations.     Under  the  heading  "  The  Fashions  of  Suicide," 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  137 

Dr.  Lankester,  in  his  report  of  inquests  for  1868-69  (noted  in 
Med.  Press  and  Circular),  gives  some  interesting  facts  in  regard 
to  the  subject.  He  says  considerable  change  has  taken  place  in 
the  selection  of  poisons  for  suicidal  purposes.  That  most  fre- 
quently used  during  late  years  being  cyanide  of  potassium ;  it  is 
purchased  without  difficulty,  and  its  action  is  most  deadly.  The 
next  agent  in  most  frequent  use  is  oxalic  acid,  whilst  the  use  of 
opium,  hj'^drocyanic  acid,  etc.,  is  on  the  decline,  owing  perhaps  to 
the  greater  difficulty  encountered  in  procuring  them  by  purchase. 
The  reason  the  other  substances  are  more  easily  procured  is  that 
they  are  largely  used  in  the  arts,  and  are  in  the  hands  of  number- 
less persons  everywhere. 

Although  reference  is  made  to  poison  in  "The  Tempest," 
A.  iii.,  S.  ii.,  and  in  one  place  again  reference  made  to  giving  it 
so  that  it  might  "  work  a  great  time  after,"  and  spoken  of  also  in 
"The  Winter's  Tale,"  A.  i.,  S.  i.,  and  "rats'-bane"  as  a  poison 
two  or  three  times,  there  is  nothing  worthy  of  note  said  of  it  until 
in  "King  John,"  A.  v.,  S.  vi.,  where  the  following  language 
occurs : 

Herbert.  (The  king's  cliamberlain).  "The  king,  I  fear,  is  poi- 
soned by  a  monk :  I  left  him  almost  speechless,  and  brake  out  to 
acquaint  you  with  this  evil,  that  you  might  the  better  arm  you  to 
this  sudden  time,  than  if  you  had  at  leisure  known  of  this. 

Bastard.     How  did  he  take  it?  who  did  taste  to  him? 

Herbert.  A  monk,  I  tell  you ;  a  resolved  villain,  whose  bowels 
suddenly  burst  out:  the  king  yet  speaks,  and,  peradventure,  may 
recover." 

In  this  quotation  Shakespeare  does  not  appear  to  have  kept  close 
to  the  symptomatology,  for  the  king  had  been  sick  a  time  before 
this  poisoning  should  have  happened.  In  Scene  iii.,  whilst  on  the 
field  of  battle,  the  king  was  made  to  exclaim, — "Ah,  me!  this 
tyrant  fever  burns  me  up,  and  will  not  let  me  welcome  this  good 
news.  Set  on  towards  Swinstead  ;  to  my  litter  straight ;  weakness 
possesseth  me,  and  I  am  faint."  If  the  monk  had  been  using 
treachery  toward  the  king,  then  he  certainly  had  been  using  "  poison 
to  work  a  great  time  after,"  because  even  prior  to  the  facts  last 
stated  as  to  the  condition  of  King  John  on  the  battle-field,  the  com- 
plaint is  made  by  him, — "this  fever  that  hath  troubled  me  so  long, 
lies  heavy  on  me :  O!   my  heart  is  sick." 


138  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

The  Bastard  seemed  fully  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  the  report 
that  the  king  was  poisoned,  as  he  hastilj'^  ordered  the  messenger, — 
"Away,  before:  conduct  me  to  the  king;  I  doubt,  he  will  be  dead 
ere  I  come."  After  reaching  Swinstead  Abbey  the  oft  quoted 
soliloquy  of  Prince  Henry  occurred :  "It  is  too  late:  the  life  of 
all  his  blood  is  touch'd  corruptibly  ;  and  his  pure  brain  (which  some 
suppose  the  soul's  frail  dwelling-house),  doth  by  the  idle  comment 
that  it  makes,  foretell  the  ending  of  mortality." 

Pembroke.  "  His  highness  yet  doth  speak  ;  and  holds  belief  that 
being  brought  into  the  open  air  it  would  allay  the  burning  quality 
of  that  fell  poison  which  assaileth  him. 

Prince  Henry.  Let  him  be  brought  into  the  orchard  here. — Doth 
he  still  rage? 

Pembroke.  He  is  more  patient  than  when  you  left  him:  even 
now  he  sung. 

Prince  Henry.  O !  vanity  of  sickness !  fierce  extremes  in  their 
continuance  will  not  feel  themselves.  Death,  having  prey'd  upon 
the  outward  parts,  leaves  them  unvisited ;  and  his  siege  is  now 
against  the  mind,  the  which,  he  pricks  and  wounds  with  many 
legions  of  strange  fantasies,  which,  in  their  throng  and  press  to 
that  last  hold,  confound  themselves.  'Tis  strange  that  death 
should  sing." 

The  king  is  then  brought  to  the  open  air,  and  thus  rejoices : 
"Ah,  marry,  now  my  soul  hath  elbow-room,  it  would  not  out  at 
windows,  nor  at  doors.  There  is  so  hot  a  summer  in  my  bosom, 
that  all  my  bowels  crumble  up  to  dust:  I  am  a  scribbled  form, 
drawn  with  a  pen  upon  a  parchment, — and  against  this  fire  I  shrink 
up. 

Prince  Henry.     How  fares  your  majesty? 

King  John.  Poison'd, — ill  fare; — dead,  forsook,  cast-off;  and 
none  of  you  will  bid  the  winter  come,  nor  let  (my  kingdom's) 
rivers  take  their  course  through  my  burn'd  bosom  ;  nor  entreat  the 
north  winds  kiss  my  parched  lips,  and  comfort  me  with  cold.  The 
poison  is  as  a  fiend,  confin'd  to  tyrannize  on  unreprievable  condemned 
blood." 

The  question  for  solution,  when  we  analyze  the  foregoing  extract, 
presents  two  points  of  interest:  first,  was  the  king  poisoned  at  all? 
and,  second,  if  he  was  poisoned,  what  substance  had  been  used  for 
that  purpose  ? 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  •  139 

In  regard  to  the  first  of  these  propositions,  it  is  pretiy  clearly- 
apparent,  to  our  mind,  that  he  was  not  poisoned  at  all  by  the  hand 
of  a  monk,  or  any  one  else — in  fact  was  not  poisoned  at  all  in  the 
light  in  which  himself  and  attendants  viewed  the  matter.  This 
we  shall  attempt  to  establish  clearly  in  a  subsequent  portion  of  this 
work. 

As  to  the  second  proposition,  there  is  more  difficulty ;  he  had  not 
sj'mptoms  confined  alone  to  the  action  of  one  virulent  poison,  but 
some  common  to  several ;  therefore  if  he  was  poisoned,  he  had  cer- 
tainly been  dosed  with  a  compound.  These  too  had  been  of  both 
vegetable  and  mineral  origin,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  symptoma- 
tology. In  the  quotations,  —  "Doth  he  still  rage?"  and  "the 
idle  comment  that  it  makes,"  with  "many  legions  of  strong  fan- 
tasies," etc.,  all  show  a  mind  disordered,  either  from  disease  or 
poison.  If  from  the  latter,  then  it  was  from  a  narcotic  or  cerebro- 
spinal poison,  the  class  of  which  are  usually  of  vegetable  origin — 
acting  secondarily  if  at  all,  upon  the  visceral  structures ;  whilst 
those  "fell  poisons"  which  have  "  bnrning  qualities"  about  them 
and  produce  "burn'd  bosoms"  and  "parched  lips,"  necessitating 
entreaties  for  flowing  rivers  of  water  and  north  winds,  are  usually 
of  the  corrosive  mineral  kinds  —  producing  intense  inflammatory 
action  in  the  tissues  with  which  they  come  in  contact,  but  seldom 
acting  upon  the  brain  sufficiently  to  disturb  the  intellectual  facul- 
ties. If  in  this  case  "poison"  had  contained  "  physic,"  it  was  an 
unfortunate  circumstance  ;  the  monks  often  practiced  the  healing 
art,  I  believe,  in  those  days — hence  the  king  may  have  possessed 
an  idiosyncrasy  which  was  antagonistic  to  the  prescription  em- 
ployed. 

It  is  not  very  clear  what  is  meant  by  the  term  used  in  connection 
with  the  monk  who  tasted  to  the  king  when  it  is  said  his  bowels 
suddenly  burst  out.  He  was,  no  doubt,  the  subject  of  a  hernial 
protusion  and  had  the  misfortune  to  have  the  intestine  escape  at 
the  particular  juncture  named,  and  some  movement  or  word  of  his 
betrayed  the  condition  to  those  present  at  the  king's  attendance. 
They  were  anxious  to  find  a  pretext  for  his  accusation  and  hence 
magnified  even  this  accident  to  the  poor  monk's  condemnation. 

As  to  the  singing  of  the  king  when  thought  to  be  dying,  this  is 
not  very  uncommon  during  the  recovery  from  the  influence  of  chlo- 
roform or  in  the  intoxication  of  alcohol  and  some  other  poisons,- 
though  in  the  very  jaws  of  death  from  a  congestive  chill  I  have 


140  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

heard  the  sufferer  siag  and  pray  as  if  in  a  toxic  or  inebriated  condi- 
tion. 

"  Give  me  some  drink  ;  and  bid  the  apothecary  bring  the  strong 
poison  I  bought  of  him  "  are  words  from  the  lips  of  the  dying 
Cardinal  Beaufort,  Bishop  of  Winchester. 

As  suggested  before,  the  consideration  of  the  soporific  or  "sleep- 
ing potion"  of  Friar  Laurence  is  placed  under  the  division  of  toxi- 
cology because  of  the  characteristic  effects  of  the  remedy  upon  the 
animal  economy — no  remedy  having  such  power,  being  free  from 
toxicological  properties  when  given  in  quantities,  or  to  the  susceptible 
or  in  peculiar  conditions  of  the  system  ;  it  therefore  takes  quantity 
as  well  as  gitaZ^  to  constitute  a  poison,  —  its  poisonous  properties 
only  being  judged  by  its  effects. 

It  has  been  suggested  by  an  ingenious  writer,  that  the  good  Friar 
had  certainly  anticipated  Liebreich  in  the  discovery  and  use  of  the 
hydrate  of  chloral ;  and  a  cursory  view  of  the  symptoms  attending 
the  action  of  the  real  and  the  mythical  remedies  upon  the  human 
system,  might  very  easily  cause  any  one  to  commit  a  like  error :  but 
there  is  a  great  dissimilarity  in  their  action,  as  we  shall  see.  I  will 
quote  from  an  article  of  my  own,  written  upon  this  subject,  and 
published  in  the  Leavenworth  Medical  Herald^  some  years  ago : 
"I  am  of  the  opinion  that  if  the  correspondent  of  the  '■Michigan 
University  Medical  Journal^'  who  seems  to  have  made  the  important 
discovery  of  the  identity  of  these  drugs,  had  read  the  whole  of  the 
Friar's  instructions,  and  not  have  mutilated  them  by  making  ex- 
tracts, he  could  not  have  seen  so  striking  an  analogy  in  the  action 
of  the  remedies.     The  full  conversation  ran  thus : 

Friar.  '  Take  now  this  phial,  being  then  in  bed,  and  this  dis- 
tilled liquor  drink  thou  off ;  when,  presently,  through  all  thy  veins 
shall  run  a  cold  and  drowsy  humor  ;  for  no  2)ulse  shall  keep  his  na- 
tive progress,  but  surcease:  no  toarmth,  no  breath  shall  testify  that 
thou  livest;  the  roses  in  thy  lips  and  cheeks  shall  fade  to  paly  ashes; 
thy  eyes'  windows  fall,  like  death  when  he  shuts  up  the  day  of 
life ;  each  part  deprived  of  suple-government,  shall  stark  and  stiff 
and  cold  apipear  like  death:  and  in  the  borrow'd  likeness  of  shrank 
death  thou  shall  continue  two  and  forty  hours,  and  then  awake  as 
from  a  pleasant  sleep. 

Now,  when  the  bridegroom  in  the  morning  comes  to  rouse  thee 
from  thy  bed,  there  art  thou  dead:  then,  as  the  manner  of  our 
country   is,  in   thy    best  robes   uncover'd  on    the    bier,    be  borne 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  141 

to  burial  in  thy  kindred's  grave.'  Wlien  discovered  by  her 
nurse  and  Lady  Capulet,  tremendous  exertions  were  made  to 
awaken  her,  but  without  avail ;  then  comes  Capulet  himself,  who 
thus  exclaims :  'Ha!  let  me  see  her.  Out,  alas!  she's  cold!  Her 
blood  is  settled,  and  her  joints  are  stiff;  life  and  those  lips  have  long 
been  separated.' 

After  a  careful  survey  of  the  literature  of  the  subject,  I  find  the 
salient  points  of  the  action  of  the  hydrate  of  chloral,  on  the  bodily 
functions,  to  be  the  following: 

Little  or  no  impairment  of  the  function  of  respiration ;  no  abnormal 
condition  of  the  j^ulse — the  heart  being  the  last  of  the  vital  orc/aris  to 
become  affected  by  the  agent.  The  face  becomes  flushed,  and  the  eyes 
suffused  and  congested;  unusual  renal  activity.  There  is  an  especial 
relaxation  of  all  the  soft  tissues  of  the  body,  with  an  exalted  cutaneous 
sensibility.  Sixteen  hours  the  longest  time  recorded,  during  ivhich  a 
patient  has  been  kept  under  its  influence  by  a  single  dose,  and  that  in 
the  case  of  a  person  suffering  from  stupor  and  melancholia, — 
hardly  a  fair  test. 

The  hypnotic  action  of  the  drug,  though  very  rapid,  not  morbidly 
profound  like  that  of  opium  and  some  other  narcotics  ; — a  hand  on 
the  door,  a  gentle  icord,  or  slight  puncture  being  sufficient  to  arouse  the 
sleeper  to  immediate  and  complete  consciousness.  Now  I  am  per- 
suaded that  a  careful  collation  of  the  two  leading  paragraphs  of 
this  article, — especially  the  italicised  lines,  will  disclose  the  fact 
that  hydrate  of  chloral  produces  few  of  the  symptoms  attributed 
by  Shakespeare  to  his  mythical  drug ;  and  that  if  Friar  Laurence 
supplied  the  fair  Juliet  with  a  '  sweet  oblivious  antidote,'  to  rid  her 
of  an  odious  and  troublesome  suitor,  it  was  not  chloral  hydrate." 

As  stated  before,  the  foregoing  quotation  was  written  a  few 
months  after  the  discovery  of  the  "hydrate,"  but  the  action  of 
the  agent  was  so  carefully  noted  by  those  who  had  administered  it 
up  to  that  time  that  there  have  been  no  observations  from  its  more 
extended  use,  which  change  the  notions  of  the  profession  from  the 
therapeutic  facts  as  above  related  of  it. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  we  have  no  remedy  in  our 
voluminous  materia  medica  of  which  we  are  aware,  that  would  come 
as  near  producing  the  genercd  effects  of  the  Friar's  remedy  as  the 
hydrate  of  chloral ;  and  it  would  really  seem  that  to  regard  it  in  a 
general  way,  Liebriech  has  only  reproduced  a  long  lost  article — 
known  and  used  hundreds  of  years  in  the  past — medicine  as  well  as 


142  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

history  repeating  itself.  If  the  powerful  remedy  used  by  Juliet 
was  a  mystery,  we  yet  have  another  in  the  drug  employed  by  Romeo 
in  his  tragic  end. 

"  AYell,  Juliet,  I  will  lie  with  thee  to-night.  Let's  see  for  means : 
O,  mischief !  thou  art  swift  to  enter  in  the  thoughts  of  desperate 
men.  I  do  remember  an  apothecary,  and  hereabouts  he  dwells, 
which  late  I  noted  in  tatter' d  weeds,  with  overwhelming  brows, 
culling  of  simples :  meagre  were  his  looks,  sharp  misery  had  worn 
him  to  the  bones ;  and  in  his  needy  shop  a  tortoise  hung,  an  alli- 
gator stuff'd,  and  other  skins  of  ill-shap'd  fishes;  and  about  his 
shelves  a  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes,  green  earthen  pots, 
bladders,  and  musty  seeds,  were  thinly  scatter'd  to  make  up  a  show. 
Noting  his  penury,  to  myself  I  said — and  if  a  man  did  need  a  poison 
now,  whose  sale  is  present  death  in  Mantua,  here  lives  a  caitiff 
wretch  would  sell  it  him.  O !  this  same  thought  did  but  forerun 
my  need;  being  holiday,  the  beggar's  house  is  shut. — What,  ho! 
apothecary ! 

Apothecary.     Who  calls  so  loud? 

Romeo.  Come  hither,  man. — I  see  that  thou  art  poor ;  hold,  there 
is  forty  ducats :  let  me  have  a  dram  of  poison  ;  such  soon-speeding 
gear  as  will  disperse  itself  through  all  the  veins,  that  the  life- weary 
taker  may  fall  dead ;  and  the  trunk  may  be  discharged  of  breath  as 
violently,  as  hasty  powder  fir'd  doth  hurry  from  the  fatal  cannon's 
womb. 

Apothecary.  Such  mortal  drugs  I  have ;  but  Mantua's  law  is 
death  to  any  he  that  utters  them. 

Romeo.  Art  thou  so  base,  and  full  of  wretchedness,  and  fear'st 
to  die?  famine  is  in  thy  cheeks,  need  and  oppression  starveth  in 
thine  eye,  contempt  and  beggary  hang  on  thy  back,  the  world  is  not 
thy  friend,  nor  the^world's  law  ;  the  world  affords  no  law  to  make  thee 
rich  ;  then  be  not  poor,  but  break  it,  and  take  this.     (  Giving  money. ) 

Apothecary.     My  poverty,  but  not  my  will,  consents. 

Romeo.     I  pay  thy  poverty,  not  thy  will. 


PHAEMACOLOGIA, 


143 


Apothecary.  Put  this  in  any  liquid  tiling  you  will,  and  drink  it 
off;  and  if  you  had  the  strength  of  twenty  men,  it  would  despatch 
you  straight."  Supplied  with  the  death-dealing  agent  furnished 
him  in  violation  of  the  penal  statutes  of  the  government  of  Mantua, 
the  grief-stricken  representative  of  all  the  Montagues  hastened 
from  his  exile  to  the  '  tomb  of  all  the  Capulets,'  where,  upon  dis- 
covering the  still  form  of  his  bride,  he  thus  soliloquized:  "Death, 
that  has  suck'd  the  honey  of  thy  breath,  hath  no  power  yet  upon 
thy  beauty:  thou  art  not  conquer'd ;  beauty's  ensign  yet  is  crim- 
son in  thy  lips,  and  in  thy  cheeks,  and  death's  pale  flag  is  not 
advanced  there.  Ah!  dear  Juliet,  why  art  thou  yet  so  fair?  I  will 
believe  that  unsubstantial  death  is  amorous ;  and  that  the  lean 
abhorred  monster  keeps  thee  here  in  dark  to  be  his  paramour. 
For  fear  of  that  I  still  will  stay  with  thee,  and  never  from  this  place 
of  dim  night  depart  again :  here,  here  will  I  remain  with  worms 
that  are  thy  chambermaids ;  O !   here  will  I  sit  up  my  everlasting 


144 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


rest,  and  shake  the  yoke  of  inauspicious  stars  from  this  world- 
wearied  flesh.  Eyes,  look  your  last ;  arms,  take  your  last  embrace ; 
and  lips,  O!  you,  the  doors  of  breath,  seal  with  a  righteous  kiss  a 
dateless  bargain  to  engrossing  death. — Come,  bitter  conduct,  come 
unsavory  guide!  thou  desperate  pilot,  now  at  once  run  on  the  dash- 
ing rocks  thy  sea-sick  weary  bark.  Here's  to  my  love. — (^Drinks 
his  poison. )  O,  true  apothecary !  thy  drugs  are  quick. — Thus  with  a 
kiss  I  die." 

(^Friar  Laurence  visits  the  tomb,  and  the  lady  wakes.) 

Juliet.     "O,  comfortable  Friar!  where  is  my  love?     I  do  remem- 
ber well  where  I  should  be,  and  there  I  am. — Where  is  my  Romeo? 


i^riar.— "Lady,  come  from  that  nest  of  death." 
Friar.  Lady,  comejfrom  that  nest  of  death,  contagion,  and  un- 
natural sleep.  Come,  come  away ;  thy  husband  in  thy  bosom  there 
lies  dead ;  come,  I  will  dispose  of  thee  among  a  sisterhood  of  holy 
nuns.  Stay  not  to  question ;  come,  go,  good  Juliet. — I  dare  no 
longer  stay. 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  145 

Juliet.  Go,  get  thee  hence,  for  I  will  not  away. — What's  here? 
a  cup,  clos'd  in  my  true  love's  hand?  poison,  I  see,  hath  been  his 
timeless  end. — O  churl!  drink  all,  and  leave  no  friendly  drop  to 
help  me  after? — I  will  kiss  thy  lips;  haply,  some  poison  doth  yet 
hang  on  them,  to  make  me  die  with  a  restorative.  Thy  lips  are 
warm ! ' ' 

Juliet  then  falls  dead  with  Romeo's  dagger  buried  deep  in  her 
heart.  The  old  Friar  explained  the  whole  matter  to  the  relatives  of 
the  two  lovers  in  the  following  words  : 

"  I  will  be  brief,  for  my  short  date  of  breath  is  not  so  long  as  a 
tedious  tale.  Romeo  there  dead,  was  husband  to  that  Juliet;  and 
she  there  dead,  that  Romeo's  faithful  wife:  I  married  them;  and 
their  stolen  marriage-day  was  Tybalt's  dooms-day,  whose  untimely 
death,  banished  the  new-made  bridegroom  from  this  city, — for  whom, 
and  not  Tybalt,  Juliet  pin'd.  Then  comes  she  to  me,  and  with 
wild  looks  bade  me  devise  some  means,  or  in  my  cell  there  would 
she  kill  herself.  Then  gave  I  her,  (so  tutor'd  by  my  art)  a  'sleep- 
ing potion,  which  so  took  effect  as  I  intended,  for  it  wrought  on  her 
the  form  of  death. 

Prince.  This  letter  doth  make  good  the  Friar's  words,  their 
course  of  love,  the  tidings  of  her  death,  and  here  he  writes, 
that  he  did  buy  a  poison  of  a  'poor  apothecary.'  " 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  condition  of  Juliet  at  the  time  of 
Romeo's  contemplation  of  her,  and  a  description  of  her  condition 
at  the  time  of  her  first  taking  the  remedy,  are  quite  discrepant;  in 
the  first  she  is  in  the  "  likeness  of  shrank  death,"  the  "  roses  in 
her  lips  and  cheeks  are  faded  to  paly  ashes,"  whilst  in  the  other  it 
is  said  that  "  beauty's  ensign  yet  is  crimson  in  her  lips  and  in  her 
cheeks,  and  death's  pale  flag  is  not  advanced  there."  The  latter  con- 
dition coincides  more  nearly  with  the  conditions  of  one  under  the 
influence  of  chloral.  It  is  a  remai'kable  fact,  that  neither  in  lan- 
guage nor  sentiment  is  there  scarcely  to  be  found  a  contradiction  in 
all  of  Shakespeare's  writings ;  the  contradiction  in  the  case  of 
Juliet's  condition  being  not  of  his  making,  as  the  five  lines  begin- 
ning, "Death  that  hath  sucked  the  honey  of  thy  breath,"  and 
containing  the  error  or  contradiction  in  idea  is,  in  the  copy  from 
which  I  quote,  the  work  of  an  "  emendator  ;"— not  to  be  found  in 
older  copies  of  the  work,  and  notably  absent  from  the  quarto  of 


146  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

1597.  This  shows  conclusively,  that  few  men  can  correct  errors  for, 
or  improve  upon  the  works  of  Shakespeare. 

In  regard  to  the  poison  used  by  Romeo,  it  seems  that  oxalic  acid 
comes  nearer  filling  the  physical  and  toxical  conditions  of  the 
material  than  any  other  we  possess  at  this  day.  "  Put  this  in  anj^ 
liquid  thing  you  will,  and  drink  it  off,  and  it  will  despatch  you 
straight ;"  showing  that  it  acted  with  celerity,  and  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  dissolve  or  dilute  it ;  nicotina  or  prussic  acid  might  have 
been  used  in  the  event  of  the  last  suggestion,  but  the  other  is  most 
plausible. 

Oxalic  acid  is  a  colorless,  crystallized  solid,  possessing  a  strong, 
sour  taste ;  it  dissolves  in  nine  times  its  weight  of  cold,  and  in  its 
own  weight  of  boiling  water ;  it  dissolves  in  alcohol.  It  is  a  viru- 
lent poison  in  large  doses,  producing  death  with  great  rapidity  and 
certainty  in  from  ten  to  sixty  minutes ;  it  was  not  noticed  as  a  poi- 
son until  1814,  by  Royston ;  since  then  by  Percy,  Thompson,  and 
others  ;  it  is  much  used  in  the  arts — particularly  in  calico  printing, 
for  discharging  colors, — and  therefore  is  quite  a  common  agent  in 
the  hands  of  the  suicide,  even  now.  Cyanide  of  hydrogen,  or 
prussic  acid  was  first  discovered  by  Scheele,  in  1782,  whilst  nicotina 
was  not  known  until  quite  recently ;  so  that,  if  either  of  these  ar- 
ticles were  among  the  contraband  in  the  stock  of  the  poor  apothe- 
cary of  Mantua,  we  have  only  another  instance  of  the  fact  that 
scientists  are  now  discovering  many  things  as  new,  which  have  been 
in  use  so  long  ago  as  to  have  fallen  into  disuse  and  have  been  for- 
gotten. 

Banquo,  in  a  conversation  with  Macbeth  soon  after  encountering 
the  witches  upon  the  heath  of  Fores,  speculates  in  this  way:  "Were 
such  things  here,  as  we  do  speak  about,  or  have  we  eaten  on  the 
insane  root,  that  takes  the  reason  prisoner?" 

It  is  probable  that  the  substance  here  referred  to  as  the  "  insane 
root,"  was  the  modern  cicuta  or  conium  maculatum — the  "hemlock" 
of  the  ancients,  which  was  so  popular  as  a  weapon  for  the  purpose 
of  suicide  and  criminal  poisoning ;  it  is  a  most  energetic  poison, 
three  drops  of  conia,  the  active  principle  of  the  plant,  having  killed 
a  stout  cat  in  a  minute  and  a  half ;  it  acts  upon  the  spinal  cord, 
prostrating  the  nervous  powers,  paralyzing  the  voluntary  muscular 
system,  and  destroys  life  by  arresting  the  function  of  respiration. 
The  brain  does  not  seem  to  be  influenced  in  any  marked  degree, 
even  by  a  poisonous  dose  of  the  medicine ;  therefore  the  idea  that 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  147 

it  ''  takes  the  reason  prisoner,"  is  scarcely  correct.  In  the  fearful 
tragedy  of  "Macbeth,"  again,  A.  ii.,  S.  ii.,  it  is  stated  that  Lady 
Macbeth  "  drugged  the  possets  "  of  the  king's  attendants,  "that 
death  and  nature  did  contend  about  them,  whether  they  lived  or 
died." 

The  half  clear,  half  disturbed  slumbers  of  these  men,  whilst 
Macbeth  with  bloody  hands  bent  over  their  prostrated  bodies,  shows 
that  they  perhaps  were  laboring  under  the  effects  of  some  powerful 
toxical  agent ; — the  "hashish,"  cannabis  indica,  or  Indian  hemp 
comes  nearest  meeting  the  characteristics  in  action  upon  the  brain, 
of  any  of  our  modern  substances ;  it  is  a  powerful  narcotic  when 
given  in  sutBcient  quantity,  but  in  a  less  dose  it  produces  an  in- 
toxicated mind  with  delirious  hallucinations — with,  finally,  drow- 
siness, stupor,  etc.,  but  has  little  effect  upon  the  action  of  the 
heart.  When  taken  into  the  stomach,  it  acts  with  much  greater 
rapidity  than  opium,  and  most  other  vegetable  toxicants  ;  nor  does 
it  produce  nausea  as  does  opium  occasionally. 

There  is  in  "Hamlet,"  A.  iv,,  S.  vii.,  recorded  a  conference  be- 
tween Laertes  and  the  king,  in  regard  to  the  assassination  of  Ham- 
let, as  he  seemed  to  stand  directly  in  the  path  of  their  villainies. 
The  former  uses  this  language :  "I  will  do  't ;  and  for  that  purpose 
I'll  anoint  my  sword.  I  bought  an  unction  of  a  mountebank,  so 
mortal  that  but  dip  a  knife  into  it,  where  it  draws  blood  no  cata- 
plasm so  rare,  collected  from  all  simples  that  have  virtue  under  the 
moon,  can  save  the  thing  from  death,  that  is  but  scratch'd  withal. 
I'll  touch  my  point  with  this  contagion,  that  if  I  gall  him  slightly, 
it  may  be  death." 

We  have  the  analogue  of  this  "  unction  "  in  the  virulent  organic 
poisons, — those  I  mean  of  animal  origin,  and  also  a  few  cases  in 
which  they  are  probably  of  vegetable  origin.  In  regard  to  those 
originating  from  the  animal  kingdom,  it  is  a  singular  fact  that  they 
are  not  in  any  instance  capable  of  being  elaborated  by  the  manipu- 
lations of  the  chemist,  or  by  combinations  brought  about  external 
to  the  living  animal  economy,  but  are,  on  the  contrary,  always, 
perhaps,  generated  by  the  animal  organism  in  a  state  of  vitality — 
most  commonly  during  a  state  of  normal  vitality.  As  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  latter  we  have  the  poisons  of  the  reptile  and  insect 
creations,  one  of  which  perhaps  furnished  the  vindictive  Laertes 
with  his  "  contagion,"  whilst  of  the  other,  we  may  name  the  viru- 
lent products  of  rabies  canina,  glanders,  etc.,  omitting  entirely  the 


148  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

products  of  animal  decomposition,  the  specific  poisons  of  small- 
pox, etc.  All  savage  nations  of  the  earth  are  in  the  habit  of  using 
these  animal  poisons  for  the  purpose  of  tipping  their  arrows  and 
spears, — but  one  vegetable  poison  being  in  use  for  this  purpose 
within  my  knowledge,  namely,  the  "  curare  "  or  "  arrow  poison  " 
of  British  Guiana^ — used  by  the  natives  for  the  purpose  indicated 
by  the  name.  This  poison  is  as  deadly  as  that  of  the  rattlesnake, 
and,  like  it,  exerts  its  most  noticeable  action  upon  the  subcutaneous 
tissues ;  though  the  least  abrasion  of  the  mucous  or  cutaneous 
surfaces  is  sufficient  to  admit  it  into  the  body.  It  is  claimed  by 
most  authorities  that  this  wonderfully  active  production  is  derived 
from  the  bark  of  a  ground-like  plant,  by  aqueous  extract ;  though 
there  are  others  who  claim  that  it  is  derived  from  the  animal  king- 
dom ;  and  these  are  the  most  likely  correct,  from  the  simple  fact 
that  it  has  many  analogues  in  that  direction  and  none  in  the  other. 

The  action  of  these  three  forms  of  poisons  upon  the  animal 
economy  is  quite  unlike  in  the  main^ — those  of  vegetable  origin 
acting  for  the  most  part  upon  and  through  the  nervous  system — 
producing  little  or  no  observable  change  in  the  structures  of  the 
body,  while  of  mineral  poisons,  as  before  remarked,  inflammatory 
and  destructive  metamorphosis  is  the  common  accompaniment  of 
their  action.  Of  the  animal  poisons,  those  generated  in  the  living 
animal,  as  in  rabies  and  the  poison  of  serpents,  etc.,  they  multiply 
in  the  system  when  taken  into  the  blood,  and  have  thus  always 
offered  ample  soil  in  which  to  propagate.  As  to  the  poisons  gener- 
ated in  the  putrefactive  process  in  animal  products,  and  which 
generate  the  low  fevers  for  example,  these  should  no  longer  be  re- 
garded as  poisons  proper,  as  they  are  now  commonly  recognized  as 
belonging  to  and  identical  with  parasitic,  living,  organisms — are 
real  animals,  as  much  so  as  are  the  lions  and  tigers  found  in  the 
jungles  of  Central  Africa. 

Immediately  succeeding  the  conversation  in  which  Laertes  boasts 
of  having  purchased  the  poison,  he  and  the  king  continued, — 

King.  "Let's  farther  think  of  this;  weigh,  what  convenience, 
both  of  time  and  means,  may  fit  us  to  our  shape. 

If  this  should  fail,  and  that  our  drift  looked  through  our  bad 
performance,  'twere  better  not  assay'd:  therefore,  this  project 
should  have  a  back,  or  second,  that  might  hold,  if  this  should  blast 
in  proof.  Soft! — let  me  see: — we'll  make  a  solemn  wager  on  your 
cunnings,  I  ha  'C:  when   in  your  motions  you  are  hot  and  dry  (as 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  149 

make  your  bouts  more  violent  to  that  end),  and  that  he  calls  for 
drink,  I'll  have  prepar'd  him  a  chalice  for  the  nonce,  whereon  but 
sipping,  if  he  by  chance  escape  your  venom' d  stuck,  our  purpose 
may  hold  there."  (This  will  be  remembered  as  the  plan  for  the 
termination  of  the  fencing  match,  which  had  been  arranged  to  take 
place  between  Laertes  and  Hamlet.  They  supposed  that  Hamlet 
knew  nothing  of  the  malice  they  bore  him,  but  in  that  they  were 
mistaken ;  he  was  better  posted  than  his  eccentricities  would  suffer 
them  to  acknowledge.) 

"  Set  me  the  stoop  of  wine  upon  that  table  there.  If  Hamlet 
give  the  first  or  second  hit,  or  quit  in  answer  of  the  third  exchange, 
the  king  shall  drink  to  Hamlet's  better  breath. 

Give  me  the  cups  ;  now  the  king  drinks  to  Hamlet ;  come,  begin  ; 

Hamlet.     Come  on,  sir. 

LaeHes.     Come,  my  lord. 

Hamlet.     One. 

Laertes.     No. 

Hamlet.     Judgment. 

Osric.     (A  courtier.)     A  hit,  a  very  palpable  hit. 

King.  Stay :  give  drink.  Hamlet,  the  pearl  is  thine  (the  pearl 
was  placed  in  the  poisoned  glass)  ;  here's  to  thy  health. — Give  him 
the  cup. 

Hamlet.     I'll  play  this  bout  first ;  set  it  by  awhile. 

King.     Our  son  shall  win. 

Queen.  (Hamlet's  mother. J  He's  fat,  and  scant  of  breath. — 
Here's  a  napkin;  rub  thy  brows,  mj'^  son:  the  queen  carouses  to 
thy  fortune,  Hamlet. 

Hamlet.     Good  madam, — 

King.     Gertrude  (thf-  queen  J,  don't  drink. 

Queen.     I  will,  my  lord:  I  pray  you  pardon  me.     f Drinks. J 

King.     It  is  the  poisoned  cup  !  it  is  too  late.     (Aside.) 

Hamlet.     I  dare  not  drink  yet  madam  ;  by  and  by. 

Queen.     Come,  let  me  wipe  thy  face." 

Laertes  and  Hamlet  then  play  their  third  bout,  when  Hamlet  is 
wounded,  and  by  chance  changes  daggers  with  his  antagonist  and 
wounds  him  also;  the  queen  falls — crying,  the  drink  1  the  drink! 
I'm  poisoned!  {Dies.)  Laertes  then  falls  also,  and  as  he  docs  so 
he  exclaims — "It  is  here  Hamlet.  Hamlet,  thou  art  slain;  no 
medicine  in  the  world  can  do  thee  good:  in  thee  there  is  not  half 


150  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

an  hour  of  life :  the  treacherous  instrument  is  in  thy  hand,  unbated 
and  envenom'd.  The  foul  practice  hath  turn'd  itself  on  me ;  lo, 
here  I  lie,  never  to  rise  again.  Thy  mother's  poison'd;  I  can  no 
more.     The  king,  the  king's   to  blame. 

Hamlet.  The  point  envenom'd  too!  Then,  venom,  do  thy  work! 
(^Stahs  the  king.) 

It  is  probable  that  the  poison  in  the  wine  was  the  conium  macu- 
latiim.  It  usually  commences  to  operate  in  half  an  hour,  when 
taken  in  poisonous  doses.  It  seems  that  the  toxic  agents  of  Shakes- 
peare's imagination  were  of  a  potent  quality  whether  those  in  the 
drug  shops  of  his  cotemporaries  were  so  or  not,  and  certain  it  is,  he 
lacked  no  skill  in  using  them  with  tragic  effect. 

In  "  King  Lear,"  A.  v.,  S.  ii.,  we  find  another  character  disposed 
of  by  poison ;  this  is  Regan,  who  was,  through  jealousy,  poisoned 
by  her  sister  Goneril — she  then  committing  suicide  with  a  poniard. 

The  circumstances  attending  this  tragedy  are  not  drawn  with  the 
minuteness  and  skill  which  characterize  most  other  scenes  of  this 
nature  in  Shakespeare's  writings  ;  therefore  we  have  fewer  grounds 
for  speculation.  Othello  spoke  of  poisons  as  an  agent  with  which 
to  rid  himself  of  the  torments  of  jealousy,  but  he  relinquished  this 
purpose  in  favor  of  the  more  trusty  dagger.  The  defeat  of  Mark 
Antony  determined  Cleopatra  to  take  her  departure  to  that  bourne 
from  whence  no  pilgrim  has  ever  returned,  and  she  thus  declares, 
"  Not  the  imperious  show  of  the  full-fortuned  Csesar  ever  shall  be 
broach' d  with  me;  if  knife,  drugs,  serpents,  have  edge,  sting  or 
operation,  I  am  safe."  She  finally  decides  upon  the  decisive  act, 
and  thus  addresses  her  attendant: — "Hast  thou  not  the  pretty  worm 
of  Nilus  there,  that  kills  and  pains  not? 

Attendant.  Truly,  I  have  him  ;  but  I  would  not  be  the  party 
that  should  desire  you  to  touch  him,  for  his  biting  is  mortal:  those 
that  do  die  of  it,  do  seldom  or  never  recover. 

ClcojMtra.     Remember'st  thou  any  that  have  died  on  't? 

Attendant.  (^A  down.)  Very  many,  men  and  women  too.  I 
heard  of  one  of  them  no  longer  than  yesterday :  a  very  honest 
woman,  but  something  given  to  lie,  as  a  woman  should  not  do  but 
in  the  way  of  honesty  how  she  died  of  the  biting  of  it,  what  pain 
she  felt. — Truly,  she  makes  a  very  good  report  of  the  worm ;  but 
he  that  will  believe  all  they  say,  shall  never  be  saved  by  half  what 
they  do.     But  this  is  most  fallible,  the  worm  's  an  adder-worm. 

Cleojmtra.     Get  thee  hence  ;  farewell. 


PH  ARM  AC  OLOGIA.  151 

Attendant.     I  wish  you  all  joy  of  the  worm. 

Cleopatra.     Farewell. 

Attendant.     Look  you,  the  worm  will  do  his  kind,  remember. 

Cleo2Jatra.     Ay,  ay ;  farewell. 

Attendant.  Look  you,  the  worm  is  not  to  be  trusted  but  in  the 
keeping  of  wise  people ;  for,  indeed,  there  is  no  goodness  in  the 
worm. 

Cleopatra.     Take  thou  no  care,  it  shall  be  heeded. 

Attendant.  Very  good.  Give  it  nothing,  I  pray  you,  for  it  is  not 
worth  the  feeding. 

Cleopatra.     Will  it  eat  me  ? 

Attendant.  You  must  not  think  I  am  so  simple,  but  I  know  the 
devil  himself  will  not  eat  a  woman:  I  know,  that  a  woman  is  a  dish 
for  the  gods,  if  the  devil  dress  her  not ;  but,  truly  these  same 
whoreson  devils  do  the  gods  great  harm  in  their  women,  for  in 
every  ten  that  they  make,  the  devils  mar  nine. 

Cleopatra.     Well,  get  thee  gone  ;  farewell. 

Attendant.  Yes,  forsooth ;  I  wish  you  joy  of  the  worm.  (^Ex. 
doion.) 

(^Enter  female  attendant.) 

Cleopatra.  Give  me  my  robe,  put  on  my  crown ;  I  have  immortal 
longings  in  me.  Now,  no  more  the  juice  of  Egypt's  grape  shall 
moist  this  lip. — So,  have  you  done?  Come,  then,  and  take  the  last 
warmth  of  my  lips."  {They  kiss,  and  the  maid  falls  dead,  token 
Cleopatra  asks :) — "Dost  fall.?  have  I  the  aspick  in  my  lips?  If 
thou  and  nature  can  so  gently  part,  the  stroke  of  death  is  as  a 
lover's  pinch,  which  hurts  and  is  desir'd.  Dost  thou  lie  still?  If 
thus  thou  vanishest,  thou  tell'st  the  world  it's  not  worth  leave- 
taking.  (To  the  adder.)  Come,  thou  mortal  wretch,  with  thy 
sharp  teeth,  this  knot  intrinsicate  of  life  at  once  untie :  poor  ven- 
omous fool,  be  angry,  and  despatch.  {To  her  maid.)  Dost  thou 
not  see  my  baby  at  my  breast,  that  sucks  the  nurse  asleep?  {She 
had  applied  the  serpent  to  her  breast. )  As  sweet  as  balm,  as  soft  as 
air,  as  gentle. — Nay,  I  will  take  thee  too.  {Applies  one  to  her  arm.) 
Why  should  I  stay." — {Falls  dovm  dead.) 

CiBsar,  whose  prisoner  she  was,  then  enters  the  room  and  enquires — 
"  the  manner  of  their  deaths?  I  do  not  see  them  bleed.  Poisoned, 
then.  O  noble  weakness  ! — If  they  had  swallow'd  poison,  'twould 
appear  by  external  swelling ;  but  she  looks  like  sleep.  Here,  on 
her  breast,  there  is  a  vent  of  blood,  and  something  blown  the  like 
is  on  her  arm. 


152  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

Attendant.     This  is  an  aspick's  trail. 

Ccesar.  Most  probable,  that  so  she  died,  for  her  physician  tells 
me,  she  hath  pursu'd  conclusions  infinite  of  easy  ways  to  die." 

In  the  modern  science  of  ophiology  the  adder  is  placed  as  a  rela- 
tive of  the  viper  family,  a  species  of  serpent  which  usually  inhabits 
dry,  rocky  and  barren  districts,  and  is  not  found  in  the  vicinity  of 
rivers  and  marshy  grounds.  The  poisonous  animal  to  which  refer- 
ence is  made  under  the  name  of  the  "  worm  of  Nilus,"  most  prob- 
ably belonged  to  the  trigonocephalies  piscivorus  of  naturalists,  which 
inhabits  rivers  and  marshes  in  many  southern  latitudes,  and  the  bite 
of  which  is  speedily  fatal. 

The  absence  of  external  swelling  would  be  no  proof  that  poison 
had  not  been  swallow'd,  as  Caesar  seems  to  have  conjectured ;  but 
its  absence  might  have  been  taken  as  some  evidence  that  the  parties 
had  not  died  from  the  poison  of  a  venomous  reptile,  as  "  external " 
swelling  is  an  almost  universal  accompaniment  of  this  virus  when 
in  contact  with  subcutaneous  tissue.  There  are  no  logical  grounds 
for  the  idea  of  the  maid's  dying  merely  from  the  contact  of  her 
mistress'  lips  ; — the  matter  gives  zest  to  a  tragedy,  but  will  scarcely 
bear  rigid  scientific  enquiry.  It  is  well  known  that  the  poison  of 
most  if  not  all  herpetologic  nature,  is  innoxious  when  in  contact 
with  unabraded  cutaneous  and  mucous  surfaces.  Cleopatra  cer- 
tainly learned  originality,  whether  she  succeeded  in  hitting  upon  an 
"  easy  way  to  die  "  or  not ;  but  that  the  poison  of  any  of  the  snake 
tribe  "kills  and  pains  not"  is  hardly  consonant  with  the  expe- 
riences upon  that  point, — the  most  of  them  being  extremely  painful 
in  their  action ;  the  bite  of  the  tarantula,  rattlesnake,  etc.,  being 
attended  with  vomiting,  cramps,  suffocating  spasms,  coldness  and 
great  prostration  of  the  nervous  powers,  and  death.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  some  of  these  poisons  blast  human  life  with  the 
celerity  of  the  lightning's  stroke,  yet  it  is  probable  that  had  an  en- 
lightened physician  of  the  present  day  been  present,  he  might  have 

I   saved  the  life  of  Cleopatra,  as,  aside  from  the  whiskej^and  ammonia 

treatment  now  so  common  and  usually  so  successful,  there  has  been 

,   recently  discovered  a  specific  for  the  evil ;  this  is  nothing  else  than 

/  the  gall  of  the  serpent  so  causing  the  wound, — one  of  the  same 
species,  or  else  the  gall  of  some  other  species  whose  poison  is  more 
virulent  than  the  one  that  did  the  biting.     The  manner  of  using  is 

,     to  take  ten  parts  of  ninety-five  per  cent  alcohol,  or  an  equal  quan- 

\    tity  of  the  best  whiskey,  to  one  part  of  the  gall,  then  dilute  five 


PHARMACOLOGIA.  153 

drops  of  this  mixture  with  half  a  tumbler  (rather  indefinite)  of 
pure  water,  and  give  a  teaspoonf ul  everj'^  three  or  five  minutes  until 
all  is  taken.  If  the  pain  and  swelling  are  not  much  benefited,  re- 
peat the  process  as  before. 

The  author  of  this  treatment  is  a  medical  gentleman  who  has  long 
resided  in  India,  and  says  that  of  fifty  cases  treated,  he  had  to  re- 
peat the  first  quantity  but  twice,  and  every  patient  recovered. 

The  native  Indians  are  said  to  use  a  tincture  made  from  a  plant 
called  alconcito,  or  solobasta,  for  the  bites  of  the  most  poisonous  va- 
rieties, and  with  good  success.  They  also  inoculate  with  it  as  a  pro- 
phylactic against  the  venom  of  all  noxious  animals.  Our  American 
aborigines  are  in  the  habit  of  using  the  aristoloqiiia  virginiaria,  or 
serpentaria,  for  the  same  purpose,  but  with  what  success  I  don't 
know. 

In  Cjnnbeline,  A.  i.,  S.  iii.,  we  have  the  following: 

Queen.     "Now,  master  doctor,  have  you  brought  those  drugs? 

Physician.  Pleaseth  your  highness,  ay :  here  they  are,  madam : 
but  I  beseech  your  grace,  without  offence  (my  conscience  bids  me 
ask),  wherefore  you  have  commanded  of  me  these  most  poisonous 
compounds,  which  are  the  movers  of  a  most  languishing  death ; 
but  though  slow,  deadly. 

Queen.  I  wonder,  doetor,  thou  ask'st  me  such  a  question:  have 
I  not  been  thy  pupil  long?  Has  thou  not  learn'd  me  how  to  make 
perfumes?  distill?  preserve?  yea,  so  that  our  great  king  himself 
doth  woo  me  oft  for  mj'^  confections?  Having  thus  far  proceeded 
(unless  thou  think' st  me  devilish),  is  't  not  meet  that  I  did  amplify 
my  judgment  in  other  conclusions?  I  will  try  the  forces  of  these 
thy  compounds  on  such  creatures  as  we  count  not  worth  the  hang- 
ing (but  none  human),  to  try  the  vigor  of  them,  and  apply  allay- 
ments  to  their  act,  and  by  them  gather  their  several  virtues  and 
effects. 

Physician.  Your  highness  shall  from  this  practice  but  make 
hard  your  heart:  besides,  the  seeing  these  effects  will  be  both 
noisome  and  infectious." 

It  appears  from  this  paragraph  that  Shakespeare  held  the  notions 
of  most  laymen  even  of  to-day  in  regard  to  vivisections  and  physi- 
ological experiments  in  general  upon  the  lower  animals.  He  puts 
his  words  in  the  mouth  of  a  physician  however, — a  place  from 
which  would   emanate  very  little  of  that  teaching  at  this  time— ex- 


154  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

cept,  perhaps,  it  might  so  happen  under  exactly  the  same  or  anal- 
ogous circumstances  wherein  the  doctor  was  using  onlj'^  subterfuge — 
evading  the  unpleasant  duty  of  directly  offending  a  royal  patron. 
The  custom  of  such  physiological  experimentation  of  course  then 
obtained,  or  had  obtained,  or  Shakespeare  would  have  had  no  data 
upon  which  to  found  an  idea  of  it — unless  it  was  another  of  his 
intuitions. 

In  another  place,  and  when  alone,  the  good  Doctor  Cornelius 
talks  thus  with  himself:  "  I  do  not  like  her;  she  doth  think  she 
has  strange  lingering  poisons :  I  do  know  her  spirit,  and  will  not 
trust  one  of  her  malice  with  a  drug  of  such  damn'd  nature.  Those 
she  has  will  stupefy  and  dull  the  senses  awhile ;  which  first,  per- 
chance, she'll  prove  on  cats,  and  dogs,  then  afterward  up  higher; 
but  there  is  no  danger  in  what  show  of  death  it  makes  more  than 
the  locking  up  the  spirits  a  time  to  be  more  fresh  reviving.  She  is 
fooled  with  a  most  false  effect ;  and  I  the  truer,  so  to  be  false  with 
her."  It  is  made  evident  that  the  queen  had  a  homicidal  mania; 
and  in  a  passage  in  A.  v.,  S.  v.,  same  play,  it  is  said  by  Cornelius 
that  the  flight  of  Cymbeline's  daughter  was  all  that  saved  her  from 
being  "  taken  off  by  poison."  The  doctor  then  divulges  the  fact 
to  the  king,  that  he  had  very  often  been  importuned  by  the  queen 
to  "temper"  poisons  for  her,  pretending  that  she  only  wanted  to 
eradicate  such  vile  things  as  cats  and  dogs,  and  things  of  no  esteem  ; 
but  he  divining  that  her  purpose  was  of  danger  to  the  life  of  some- 
thing more  important,  did  compound  for  her  a  certain  stuff,  which 
being  taken,  would  cease  the  present  powers  of  life ;  but,  in  short 
time,  all  offices  of  nature  should  again  do  their  due  functions. — 
"Have  you  taken  of  it? 

Daughter.     Most  likely  I  did,  for  I  was  dead." 

The  action  of  this  "stuff"  of  Shakespeare  is  most  beautifully 
typical  of  chloroform ;  and  had  we  the  slightest  evidence  that  a 
drug  of  that  character  had  ever  existed  as  such,  save  in  the  fertile 
brain  of  the  greatest  writer  of  the  world,  we  well  might  doubt  the 
priority  of  discovery  of  anaesthesia  by  both  Morton  and  Wells. 
"  It  will  stupefy  and  dull  the  sense  awhile,  hut  there  is  no  danger  in 
what  show  oj  death  it  makes  more  than  the  locking  up  the  spirits  a 
time.'" 

It  seems  that  Shakespeare's  wonderful  mind  not  only  compre- 
hended matters  of  the  past, — imbibed  the  ideas  of  his  present,  but 
with  prophetic  grasp  anticipated  the  most  important  events  which 


PIIARMACOLOGIA.  155 

were  to  transpire  ages  after  he  ceased  to  be.  In  reference  to  the 
action  of  the  drug  of  Cornelius  on  the  human  body,  it  will  be 
remembered  that  when  Imogen  set  out  on  her  trip  to  Milford  Haven, 
Pisanio  presented  her  with  a  box,  saying  that  it  was  from  the  queen, 
and  extolling  its  virtues — a  dram  of  it  being  sufficient  to  drive 
away  distempers.  She  arrived  at  the  cave  of  Belarius  in  an  ex- 
hausted condition,  where  she  says  to  herself,  "  I  should  be  sick, 
but  that  my  resolution  helps  me ;  I  am  not  very  sick,  since  I  can 
reason  of  it;" — whilst  again  directly,  after  being  left  alone,  she 
continues:  "I  am  sick  still;  heart  sick. — Pisanio,  I'll  now  taste  of 
thy  drug."  The  scene  then  occurs  in  which  after  the  return  from 
the  hunt  and  the  encounter  with  Cloten,  they  find  Imogen  in  her 
stupor,  and  suppose  her  dead — her  face  being  like  the  "pale  prim- 
rose." 

Belarius.     "How  found  you  him?     (her.) 

Arviragus.  Stark,  as  you  see."  (^He  had  brought  the  body  in  in 
his  arms.')  She  then  awaked  as  if  from  slumber,  and  anathematizes 
the  good  old  Pisanio  for  giving  her  the  box,  in  these  words :  "  The 
drug  he  gave  me,  which,  he  said,  was  precious  and  cordial  to  me, 
have  I  not  found  it  murderous  to  the  senses?" 

There  is  one  assertion  in  the  last  quotation  which  would  make  the 
identity  of  the  article  used  to  be  chloroform,  and  distinguish  it 
from  chloral,  and  that  is,  that  the  body  was  stark.  It  was^ja^e  also, 
another  proof  of  chloroform. 


CHAPTER  V. 


ETIOLOGY. 


Prefatory — Wine  for  an  ague — Objects  of  commiseration — A  promise  re- 
deemed— Icy  burning — A  marsliy  residence — Magna  charta — Allegorical — 
An  idea  of  antiquity— "Would  to  bed  " — "  Falstaff,  he  is  dead" — Congestive 
chill — Gad's-hill — Prince  Henry  and  his  "pals"— This  man  has  become  a 
god — Is  Brutus  sick? — Acerbity — The  Appian  Way — Foes  to  life — Malaria 
as  a  demoralizing  agent — Cross  gartering — The  tourniquet  as  a  remedy — 
Same  as  a  cause  of  disease — Farewell  to  neuralgia — Brunonianism. 

In  summing  up  the  material  which  Shakespeare  furnishes  us  as  a 
causation  of  disease  we  do  not  find  much  that  is  explicit  or  definite, 
and  perhaps  the  matter  could  as  well  have  been  arranged  under 
some  other  title  as  appropriately  as  that  under  which  we  have  ar- 
ranged it.  There  is  one  element  connected  with  the  matter  which 
goes  to  make  the  chapter,  however,  that  presents  itself  so  promi- 
nently that  it  cannot  well  be  placed  under  any  other  heading  than 
the  one  given, — and  that  is  malaria,  If  I  chance,  however,  to 
introduce  ideas  in  this  connection  which  the  reader  may  find  irrele- 
vant, I  beg  that  he  will  remember  the  diflSculty  one  must  necessarily 
encounter  in  arranging  the  ideas  of  a  non-medical  person  to  make 
them  strictly  conform  to  scientific  order.  Hoping  that  my  apology 
may  be  clearly  comprehended  and  appreciated,  I  shall  at  once 
enter  upon  the  subject  matter  proper  to  the  text. 

We  find  allusion  to  malaria  first  in  "  The  Tempest,  "A.  ii.,  S.  ii., 
thus: 

Caliban.  "  All  the  infections  that  the  sun  sucks  up  from  bogs, 
fens,  flats,  on  Prosper  fall,  and  make  him  by  inch-meal  a  disease!" 
whilst  in  the  latter  portion  of  the  same  scene,  there  is  faithfully 
portrayed  an  occurrence  which  may  be  witnessed  any  August  day 
in  the  malarial  districts  of  our  own  south  and  west.  It  is  the  place 
where  the  malingering  Caliban  was  thought  by  the  drunken  butler, 

156 


ETIOLOGY.  157 

Stephano,  to  have,  "  as  I  take  it,  an  ague  ;  he's  in  his  fit  now,  and 
does  not  talk  after  the  wisest.  He  shall  taste  of  my  bottle :  if  he 
have  never  drank  wine  afore,  it  will  go  near  to  remove  his  fit;  if 
all  the  wine  in  my  bottle  will  recover  him,  I  will  help  his  ague." 
This  is  but  in  accord  with  the  popular  notion  of  to-day,  i.  e. — that 
alcoholic  stimulation  or  alcoholic  sedation  rather  is  a  sine  qua  non  in 
the  treatment  of  some  conditions  dependent  upon  miasmatic  poison- 
ing;—  not  only  that  its  good  effects  are  manifested  in  some  ex- 
treme conditions  arising  from  that  cause,  but  that  "whisky"  is  a 
prophylactic  for  malaria. 

The  medical  profession  in  this  part  of  the  country,  I  presume, 
is  also  fully  persuaded  of  its  value  in  these  cases,  as  during  a  dis- 
cussion upon  typho-malarial  fever,  in  the  St.  Joseph  Medical  So- 
ciety, a  few  evenings  since,  it  was  claimed  by  members  of  large 
experience  in  managing  such  cases,  that  alcoholics  are  indispensable 
to  the  best  treatment  of  the  most  dangerous  of  malarial  poisoning 
cases — is  good  at  all  times  and  in  all  forms  of  Autumnal  fevers 
which  have  marsh  poisons  as  their  cause.  Not  only  is  it  good  in 
malarial  diseases  of  all  grades  and  at  all  times,  but  that  in  typhoid 
fevers  it  is  claimed  by  an  eminent  medical  friend  of  my  own  to  be 
antidotal  to  the  etiological  agent,  and  counteracts  its  influence  just  as, 
or  in  a  similar  manner  as  does  it  in  the  poison  of  the  rattlesnake. 

"  My  wind,  cooling  my  broth,  would  blow  me  to  an  ague  fit," — 
"  Merchant  of  Venice,"  A.  i.,  S.  i.,  is  of  no  special  import,  but, 
"  he  will  look  as  hollow  as  a  ghost,  as  dim  and  meagre  as  an  ague 
fit,"  in  "King  John,"  A.  iii.,  S.  iii.,  has  grounds  for  reflection  in 
it  as  conveying  a  good  portrait  of  one  laboring  under  ague.  They 
are  always  objects  of  commiseration.  In  Richard  the  Second, 
A.  ii.,  S.  i.,  we  see  the  words,  "  a  lunatic  lean-witted  fool,  presum- 
ing on  an  ague's  privilege."  These  words  were  those  of  Richard 
himself  in  criticism  of  some  plain  words  used  by  the  former  king, 
John  of  Gaunt,  when  he  "breathed  his  last  in  wholesome  counsel  to 
his  unstaid  youth." 

In  this  quotation  we  have  it  plainly  asserted  that  John  had  an 
ague  even  at  the  hour  of  his  dissolution, — the  truth  of  which  I  fully 
acquiesce  in  after  making  a  diagnosis  from  his  symptoms  and  the 
previous  history  of  the  case.  We  stated  in  the  chapter  preceding 
this,  whilst  noting  this  case  under  the  heading  of  toxicology,  that 
although  it  was  claimed  by  the  persons  about  the  king  at  the  time 
of  his  last  illness,  and  also  by  the  king  himself,  that  he  had  been 


158  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

poisoned  by  a  monk,  yet  we  did  not  coincide  in  that  view  regarding 
the  king's  malady ;  and  that  in  a  future  portion  of  the  book  we 
would  endeavor  to  present  logical  grounds  for  our  opinion :  in  the 
following  pages  we  propose  to  make  good  that  promise. 

The  case  of  King  John,  bears  a  much  closer  analogy  to  a  case 
wherein  the  hand  of  nature  has  been  instrumental  in  saturating  the 
system  with  poison,  than  does  it  to  one  in  which  a  "villainous 
monk"  had  been  the  instrument.'  Miasmatic  exhalations  had  no 
doubt  wrought  the  evil  in  this  case.  "None  of  you  will  bid  the 
winter  come,  to  thrust  his  icy  fingers  in  my  maw;  nor  let  my  king- 
dom's rivers  take  their  course  through  my  burn'd  bosom;  nor  entreat 
the  north  to  make  his  bleak  winds  kiss  my  parched  lips,  and  comfort 
me  with  cold.  There  is  so  hot  a  summer  in  my  bosom,  that  all  my  boiv- 
els  C7'umbleup  to  dust;  against  this  fire,  1  shrink  wp."  To  this  must 
be  added  the  fact  that  he  had  been  sick  before,  as  will  be  remembered 
by  his  language  on  the  battle-field,  "  Ah  me !  this  tyrant  fever  burns 
me  tip,"  and  '■^  this  fever  that  hath  troubled  me  so  long,  lies  heavy 
on  me;  weakness  possesseth  me  and  I  am  faint." 

In  the  most  deadly  forms  of  pernicious  fever  there  is  no  symptom 
so  horrible  to  the  patient  as  this  sense  of  burning  heat ;  this  is  his 
agonizing  torment  when  he  is  pulseless  and  his  skin  is  icy  cold — 
nay  his  breath  is  even  cold,  and  his  surface  as  blue  and  lifeless 
as  the  body  of  him  who  already  tenants  the  grave, — the  thermo- 
meter showing  at  the  same  time  a  great  reduction  in  the  normal 
temperature  of  the  patient's  body,  whilst  the  oppressive  internal 
congestions  make  him  clamor  for  air,  air  ; — bring  him  to  the  win- 
dow, door, — into  the  yard,  orchard,  anywhere  so  that  he  may  have 
air!  and  the  exclamation  often  is,  '  O!  that  I  had  a  river  of  cold 
water  running  through  me !  lam  burning  up.'  In  all  these  ma- 
larial cases  an  unbearable  burniyig  sensation  or  pain  in  the  stomach 
is  one  of  the  most  distressing  concomitants.  Hence  the  exclama- 
tion, "  Bid  the  winter  come  to  thrust  his  icy  fingers  in  my  maw." 
Quinine  is  the  only  prompt  and  infallible  agent  for  this  symptom: 
opium,  water,  ice,  etc.,  are  good,  but  quinine  is  the  cure.  He  had 
been  sick  a  time  before  his  last  severe  illness,  and  withal  inhabited  a 
marshy  district,  between  the  discharge  of  two  considerable  rivers — 
the  Wash  and  the  Humber,  where  the  surface  is  so  low  that  the  ocean 
has  in  many  places  to  be  kept  at  bay  by  dikes,  and  where,  to  this 
day,  thousands  upon  thousands  of  acres  of  the  country  are  kept 
only  for  the  support  of  the  vast  flocks  of  geese,  both  domestic  and 


ETIOLOGY.  159 

wild,  which  feed  upon  thorn.  Moors  and  fen-hinds  cliaracterise 
Lincolnshire  to-day,  after  all  the  efforts  with  money  and  labor  to  re- 
claim it  from  the  sea ;  and  when  we  go  back  to  the  twelfth  century, 
we  ought  surely  to  find  it  as  malarial  as  the  Pontine  marsh  of  Italy, 
or  the  sloughs  of  our  own  Mississippi.  In  this  district  it  is  that  lie 
buried  the  bones  of  Catharine  Swinford,  the  wife  of  John  of  Gaunt ; 
and  in  this  district,  at  Newark  on  the  Trent,  died  John,  in  the  year 
1216,  at  the  age  of  forty-nine  years.  He  signed  the  Great  Charter 
the  year  before — 1215. 

The  probable  cause  of  the  great  dramatist's  placing  the  death  of 
John  to  the  account  of  a  monk,  and  that  with  poison,  originates  in 
the  fact  of  there  having  been  a  great  antagonism  existing  between 
John  and  the  Eoman  church, — an  antagonism  which  finally  resulted 
in  the  complete  and  humble — nay  servile  submission  of  John.  This 
perhaps  is  construed  into  a  simile  of  real  physical  death — the  poison 
represented  by  Shakespeare's  own  disdain  for  the  Romish  faith — 
that  is  if  matters  in  religion  ever  gave  him  any  concern  at  all. 

Shakespeare,  however,  has  managed  the  symptomatology  of  the 
case  with  such  a  masterly  skill,  that  it  might  puzzle  the  most  astute 
diagnostician  of  our  time, — even  his  countryman,  the  great  Watson 
himself,  to  say  whether,  from  the  symptoms,  the  king  died  with 
poison  or  malarial  fever  ; — because  they  are  sometimes  very  much 
alike. 

The  term  "ague-fit  of  fear"  is  used  by  Richard  the  Second 
illustratively,  whilst  in  the  first  part  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  A.  iii., 
S.  i..  Hotspur  uses  the  term  ague  in  the  same  sense — that  is,  to 
illustrate  an  idea;  also  in  A.  iv.,  S.  i.,  of  same  play,  he  uses  the 
words,  "worse  than  the  sun  in  March,  this  praise  doth  nourish 
agues;"  thus  pointing  to  the  fact,  that  the  notion  yet  prevalent 
among  the  mass  of  mankind  that  to  bask  in  the  sun  at  spring-time 
is  to  propagate  agues,  certainly  can  boast  of  antiquity  as  a  basis, 
whether  the  idea  itself  be  false  or  true.  Sunlight  alone  never 
"nourished  agues,"  whether  in  March  or  August,  directly;  the 
proximate  principle  in  its  causation, — malaria,  however,  doubtless 
is  generated  by  the  action  of  solar  heat  in  conjunction  with  other 
agents,  and,  thus,  if  at  all  responsible,  being  so  in  a  very  round- 
about way. 

In  King  Henry  the  Fifth,  we  have  a  most  artistic  description  of 
the  influence  of  marsh  poison  in  the  case  of  the  demise  of  Sir  John 
Falstaff.     He  is  first  announced  as  "  very  sick,  and  would  to  bed," 


160  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

by  the  boy  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Quickly,  who  requests  Nym,  one 
of  Falstaff's  followers,  to  "  come  in  quickly  to  Sir  John;  ah!  poor 
heart,  he  is  so  shaked  of  a  burning  quotidian  tertian,  that  it  is  most 
lamentable  to  behold;"  and  further  on,  in  concluding  the  career  of 
this — one  of  the  most  marked  characters  that  has  ever  figured  in 
dramatic  composition,  Pistol  urges  the  boy  to  "  bristle  his  courage 
up,  for  Falstaff  he  is  dead,  and  we  must  yearn  therefore." 

Bardolph.  "Would  I  were  with  him,  wheresome'er  he  is,  either 
in  heaven  or  in  hell. 

Mrs.  Quickly.  Nay,  sure,  he's  not  in  hell:  he's  in  Arthur's 
bosom.  'A  made  a  fine  end  and  went  away,  and  it  had  been  any 
Christian  child  ;  'a  parted  ev'n  just  between  twelve  and  one,  ev'n  at 
the  turning  o'  the  tide:  for  after  I  saw  him  fumble  with  the  sheets, 
and  play  with  flowers,  and  smile  upon  his  finger's  end,  I  knew  there 
was  but  one  way ;  for  his  nose  was  as  sharp  as  a  pen  on  a  table 
of  green  freize.  How  now.  Sir  John  ?  quoth  I :  what,  man !  be  of 
good  cheer.  So  'a  cried  out — 'God,  God,  God!'  three  or  four 
times  ;  now  I,  to  comfort  him,  bid  him,  'a  should  not  think  of  God  ; 
I  hoped,  there  was  no  need  to  trouble  himself  with  such  thoughts 
yet.  So  'a  bade  me  lay  more  clothes  on  his  feet:  I  put  my  hand 
into  the  bed,  and  felt  them,  and  they  were  as  cold  as  any  stone ; 
then  I  felt  to  his  knees,  and  so  upward,  and  all  was  as  cold  as  any 
stone." 

There  are  certainly  many  of  the  details  which  go  to  form  the 
symptomatology  of  congestive  chill  omitted  in  this  history ;  but 
enough  are  present  to  show  us  that  it  is  a  fair  picture  of  that 
malady — just  as  the  practiced  eye  can  tell  the  malady  at  the  first 
glance,  without  asking  previous  history,  in  a  case  to  which  he  may 
be  called,  in  the  miasmatic  regions  of  our  own  and  other  countries. 
"We  regard  miasm  as  the  cause  of  the  symptoms  and  death  in  the 
case  above  related  as  evidenced  not  only  by  the  history  and  symp- 
toms, but  also  by  the  habits,  circumstances  and  age  of  the  patient, — 
typhoid  fever,  with  the  which  it  would  more  likely  be  confounded, 
happening  very  seldom  in  a  person  of  Falstaff's  age,  whilst  it  will 
also  be  rememberod  that  the  haunts  of  Prince  Henry  and  his  noto- 
rious "pals"  were  in  the  county  of  Kent,  about  Rochester  and 
Gad's-hill, — the  surface  of  the  country  being  low  and  covered  in 
many  places  with  swamps  and  forests.  Of  the  million  and  forty- 
one  thousand  acres  composing  this  county,  nine  hundred  thousand 
are  meadows  and  arable  land, — even  the  Kentish  and  Surrey  por- 


ETIOLOGY.  161 

tion  of  the  city  of  London  lying  in  many  places  several  feet  below 
the  highest  tides.  I  think  it  is  somewhere  said  that  in  former 
years  this  portion  of  London  was  often  subject  to  malarial  fevers 
of  a  severe  type,  though  it  is  against  the  rule  for  this  to  be  so  in 
cities  generally. 

"Ague"  stayed  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  "a  prisoner  in  his 
chamber"  on  an  important  occasion;  and  Patroclus  allows  (in 
Troilus  and  Cressida)  that  "  those  wounds  heal  ill  which  men  do 
give  themselves" — an  assertion  acknowledged  by  the  whole  medical 
world,  and  which  has,  perhaps,  a  better  foundation  for  its  truth 
than  has  the  next — which  says  that  "  danger,  like  an  ague,  subtly 
taints."  Coriolanus  likens  fear  to  an  ague  also,  whilst  we  find  an 
animated  discussion  of  CiBsar's  merits  between  Cassius  and  Brutus 
in  this  language : 

Cassius.  "  And  this  man  is  now  become  a  god  ;  and  Cassius  is  a 
wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body,  if  Caesar  carelessly  but 
nod  to  him. 

He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain,  and  when  the  fit  was  on 
him,  I  did  mark  how  he  did  shake:  'tis  true,  this  god  did  shake: 
his  coward  lips  did  from  their  color  fly ;  and  that  same  eye,  whose 
bend  doth  awe  the  world,  did  lose  his  lustre.  I  did  hear  him  groan  ; 
ay,  and  that  tongue  of  his,  that  bade  the  Romans  mark  him,  and 
write  his  speeches  in  their  books,  alas !  it  cried,  '  Give  me  some 
drink,  Titinius,'  as  a  sick  girl.  Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me,  a  man 
of  such  a  feeble  temper  doth  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 
and  bear  the  palm  alone."  Now  when  the  matter  is  considered  in 
all  its  relations,  we  have  in  this  extract  another  case  arising  from 
marsh  poison — palpable,  plain,  unmistakable.  We  find  a  case 
something  on  the  same  order  in  that  of  Brutus  himself,  when  his 
wife  Portia  uses  this  language:  "  Is  Brutus  sick,  and  is  it  physical, 
to  walk  unbrac'd,  and  suck  up  the  humors  of  the  dank  morning? 
What!  is  Brutus  sick,  and  will  he  steal  out  of  his  wholesome  bed 
to  dare  the  vile  contagion  of  the  night,  and  tempt  the  rheum  and 
unpurged  air  to  add  unto  his  sickness?"  and  when  met  in  the  senate 
chamber  on  the  day  of  the  assassination,  Caesar  jocularly  assures 
Brutus  that  he  is  not  so  much  his  enemy  as  "  that  same  ague  which 
hath  made  him  lean,"  and  he  then  invites  Brutus  and  the  others  to 
drink  some  wine,  with  the  view  perhaps  to  neutralize  the  acerbity 
which  he  knew  to  be  present  in  their  bosoms. 

The  neighborhood  of  Rome,  where  this  scene  transpired,  is  note- 


162  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

riously  the  most  malarial  district  in  Europe.  The  poison  of  the 
Pontine  marsh,  before  referred  to,  is  so  pestilential  in  its  concen- 
tration, that  an  unacclimated  person  passing  the  great  "  Appian 
Way"  from  Rome  to  Naples  at  night  time,  and  in  the  hot  season 
of  the  year,  may  imbibe  enough  to  dangerously  compromise  his 
existence. 

Macbeth,  in  his  extremity,  while  shut  up  in  his  castle  at  Dunsi- 
nane,  thought  to  resort  to  the  very  common  expedient  of  exter- 
minating his  enemies  by  drawing  them  into  pestilential  districts, 
there  to  be  prey'd  upon  silentlj''  by  "  pale  distemperatures  and  foes 
to  life,"  as  'twas  said  by  many  would  be  the  fate  of  the  Union 
soldiers  on  our  southern  coasts  during  our  civil  war.  In  the  stead 
of  the  yellow  fever,  which  was  relied  upon  to  do  its  share  in  per- 
petuating the  reign  of  "  King  Cotton,"  Macbeth  placed  his  reliance 
on  the  same  unreliable  alliance,  and  depended  upon  "ague"  to 
"  eat  them  up," — A.  iv.,  S.  v. 

Lear  prays  thus  to  be  avenged  upon  his  undutiful  daughter, 
Goneril:  "You  nimble  lightnings,  dart  your  blinding  flames  into 
her  scornful  eyes;  infect  her  beauty,  you  fen-suck' d  fogs,  drawn 
by  the  powerful  sun,  to  fall  and  blast  her  pride." 

I  do  not  know  of  an  agent  more  potent  to  ravish  beauty  of  its 
charms,  than  a  residence  in  a  malarial  locality.  Marsh  poison 
blights — "subtly  taints"  the  whole  vital  economy,  and  renders 
those  reared  mid  its  foul  pollutions  dull  and  the  victims  to  hebetude, 
mentally,  physically  and  morally.  The  latter  assertion  may  seem 
queer  to  those  who  know  nothing  of  malarial  districts  and  their 
people;  but  I  know  from  experience  that  what  I  assert  is  true;  — 
they  are  as  a  general  proposition  lacking  in  the  moral  principles,  so 
much  so  that  physicians  are  commonly  loth  to  attend  the  best  of 
them,  as  he  expects  to  realize  little  or  nothing  for  his  services ;  and 
I  have  never  seen  a  sprightly  physical  or  mental  organization  reared 
from  infancy  to  adult  age  in  such  an  atmosphere. 

"This  does  make  some  obstruction  in  the  blood,  this  cross-gar- 
tering " — so  says  Malvolio  in  "Twelfth  Night," — A.  iii.,  S.  iv. 
The  custom  among  the  women  of  civilized  countries,  of  ligating  or 
constricting  the  legs  in  keeping  their  hose  in  place,  is  no  doubt  pro- 
ductive of  serious  evils.  It  has  been  suggested  as  an  expedient 
worthy  of  trial  in  cases  of  retarded  or  suppressed  menstruation — 
and  also  in  puerperal  eclampsia,  to  resort  to  ligation  of  the  thighs 
(arms  also,  in  the  latter),  in  the  first  to  throw  the  force  of  the  sys 


ETIOLOGfT.  163 

temic  circulation  upon  the  pelvic  organs  more  directly,  and  in  the 
latter  to  cut  off  transiently  a  supply  of  blood  to  the  brain,  but  not 
to  lose  it  to  the  system  at  large,  as  would  be  done  in  direct  ab- 
straction. Now,  if  there  is  any  just  ground  for  such  a  theory  as 
the  above,  it  follows  as  a  necessity  that  there  would  be  conditions 
in  which  this  practice  would  be  inadmissible,  and  where  its  adoption 
would  be  hurtful.  These  cases  might  be  enumerated  somewhat  in 
the  following  order:  menorrhagia,  cases  prone  to  abortion,  pla- 
centa previa,  all  cases  of  hemorrhagic  diathesis,  in  rectitis,  hemor- 
rhoids, cystitis,  metritis,  nephritis,  cellulitis,  etc.,  etc.,  as  connected 
with  the  pelvis,  whilst  varix,  phlebitis,  etc.,  might  result  to  the 
extremities  themselves.  These  are  not  all,  but  convulsive  con- 
ditions themselves  may  be  engendered  from  this  cause  as  effectually 
as  from  a  loaded  rectum  and  gravid  womb,  provided  the  condition 
is  forcibly  persisted  in ;  and,  again,  the  blood  so  impeded  in  a  free 
circulation  through  its  normal  channels  becomes  itself  a  toxic  ma- 
terial. 

These  considerations  should  be  held  sufficient  for  placing  the 
system  of  "gartering"  among  our  women  in  the  same  category 
with  tight-lacing,  low-neck  dresses  and  high-heeled  shoes.  Let 
them  all  go  down  to  oblivion  together,  and  the  days  of  hysteria, 
"palpitations"  and  neuralgias  will  in  a  great  measure  take  their 
departure. 

In  "Twelfth  Night"  also,  we  find  the  term  "  Brownist "  used 
in  a  sense  of  derision.  A  foot-note  in  the  edition  from  which  we 
quote  says  that  the  Brownists  were  a  sect  (whether  in  medicine,  or 
what,  is  not  stated),  afterwards  called  the  "Independents,"  who 
were  much  ridiculed  by  the  writers  of  the  time.  This  perhaps  had 
reference  to  the  followers  of  John  Brown,  an  Englishman  (not,  how- 
ever, the  lately  departed  "friend"  of  Queen  Victoria),  who  held 
to  the  opinion  that  the  proximate  cause  of  all  fevers  was  nothing 
more  than  a  general  depression  of  the  vital  powers  of  the  whole 
body,  and  that  treatment  based  upon  that  supposition  was  the  only 
rational  method.  These  ideas  were  vehemently  assailed  by  Brous- 
sais  and  his  followers,  who  declared  that  fevers  were  all  sympto- 
matic— that  they  had  their  origin  in  a  preceding  local  lesion,  and 
that  therefore  the  treatment  must  be  shaped  to  suit  the  altered 
pathology. 

The  term  "devouring  pestilence  hangs  in  the  air  "  is  found  in 
Richard  the  Second,  but  is  of  no  significance  in  its  application 
to  Shakespeare's  medical  knowledge. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


DEBMATOLOGY. 


The  beginning — Serpigo — A  voluminous  curse — Was  it  small-pox? — The 
cursed  hebenon  —  Acarus  scabiei  —  The  disease  in  Paris — Falstaff  as  a 
"  wen" — Kibes — Probably  vaccinated — A  string  of  rhymes — Good  fruit  only 
from  a  good  tree — Transmissibility  of  defects — Gynaecological  phenomena — 
The  "•  convulsive  zone" — Spreading  it  on  "  thick" — Rouge  and  pearl  pow- 
ders— 'Tis  beauty  truly  blent — Commendable  caution — Danger  in  the  dark — 
A  fastidious  scoundrel — Supposition  strengthened — We  catch  of  you,  Doll — 
Baths  in  syphilis — Ricord  and  Bumstead — A  beautiful  picture — Durability  of 
a  tanner— A  curious  but  not  creditable  truth — A  needed  reform — Venesection 
in  the  right  iliac  fossa. 

For  the  sake  of  convenience,  and  to  avoid  a  multiplication  of 
short  but  separate  classifications,  all  diseases  affecting  the  super- 
fices  of  the  body  noticeably,  will  be  considered  under  the  above 
caption.  This  will  necessarily  bring  into  close  proximity  affections 
of  a  very  diverse  pathology — some  which  might  be  very  properly 
classed  under  other  heads  perhaps  had  we  more  material  of  the 
same  kind — but  many  of  the  subjects  touched  upon  are  in  them- 
selves very  brief,  and  though  demanding  their  share  of  attention, 
yet  are  too  short  for  any  purpose  save  condensation  or  incorporation 
into  an  article  general  in  its  character ;  for  this  reason,  and  also 
because  syphilis  almost  always  involves  the  cutaneous  structures  to 
a  greater  or  less  extent,  it  will  likewise  be  noticed  in  connection 
with  dermatologic  medicine. 

"  Serpigo"  is  an  affection  of  the  skin  of  the  "  tetter"  family, — 
sometimes  seemingly  related  more  closely  to  the  "  herpetic"  group ; 
it  is  mentioned  in  "Measure  for  Measure"  and  also  in  "Troilus 
and  Cressida,"  where  Therestes  uses  it  in  his  maledictions  upon 
the  managers  of  the  siege  of  Troy ;  and  the  same  character,  whose 
tongue  was  caustic  as  a  red-hot  scalpel,  in  his  wrangle  with  Patro- 
clus,  talks  thus : 

164 


DERMATOLOGY.  165 

Therestes.  "  Why,  thy  masculine  whore.  Now,  the  rotten  dis- 
eases of  the  south,  the  guts-griping,  ruptures,  catarrh,  loads  o' 
gravel  i'  the  back,  lethargies,  cold  palsies,  raw  eyes,  dirt-rotten 
livers,  wheezing  lungs,  bladders  full  of  imposthume,  sciaticas,  lime- 
kilns 1'  the  palm,  incurable  bone-ache,  and  the  riveled  fee-simple  of 
the  tetter,  take  and  take  again  such  preposterous  discolourers. 

Patrodiis.  Why,  thou  damnable  box  of  envy,  thou,  what  meanest 
thou  to  curse  thus?" 

This  quotation,  although  containing  a  little  of  everything,  could 
not  be  separately  stated,  and  we  therefore  give  it  for  what  it  is 
worth.  The  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father  in  his  story  of  how  he  was 
most  foully  murdered  by  his  brother  and  his  own  queen,  speaks  of 
a  "  loathsome  crust:" 

Ghost.  "But,  soft;  methinks,  I  scent  the  morning  air :  brief  let 
me  be. — Sleeping  within  my  orchard,  my  custom  alway  in  the  after- 
noon, upon  my  secure  hour  thy  uncle  stole,  with  juice  of  cursed 
hebenon  in  a  phial,  and  in  the  porches  of  mine  ears,  did  pour  the 
leprous  distillment ;  whose  effects  holds  such  an  enmity  with  the 
blood  of  man  that  swift  as  quicksilver,  it  courses  through  the 
natural  gates  and  alleys  of  the  body ;  and  with  a  sudden  vigor  it 
doth  posset,  and  curd,  like  sour  droppings  into  milk,  the  thin  and 
wholesome  blood :  so  did  it  mine:  and  a  most  instant  tetter  bark'd 
about,  most  lazar-like,  with  vile  and  loathsome  crust  all  my  smooth 
body." 

There  are  few  morbific  agents  which  will  strictly  answer  in  every 
particular  the  characteristics  of  the  contents  of  the  phial,  in  this 
case.  It  must  have  been  some  powerful  animal  toxic,  similar  to, 
or  identical  with  the  virus  of  small-pox ;  the  only  plea  which  could 
be  deducted  against  this  hypothesis,  from  the  quotation  itself, 
being  the  "  sudden  vigor  "  with  which  it  acted.  This,  however,  is 
an  indefinite  assertion,  and  "  sudden  "  might  be  a  week  or  ten 
days  in  one  case,  whilst  it  might  be  only  a  few  moments  or  hours 
in  another. 

It  is  possible  that  the  word  "  hebenon  "  may  have  had  a  meaning 
similar  to  our  "narcotism"  or  "narcotic,"  and  that  it  was  used 
this  time  in  relation  to  the  supposed  effects  upon  the  system, — the 
term  likely  having  its  origin  in  the  word  "  hebes  " — dull,  obtuse, 
heavy,  sluggish.  Hebenon  is  not  found  in  any  lexicon  to  which  I 
have  access.     The  "  itch  mite  "  intrudes  itself  u^dou  our  notice  in 


166  SHAKESPEARE   AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

"Romeo  and  Juliet." — "  Her  wagoner,  a  small  gray-coated  gnat, 
not  half  so  big  as  a  round,  little  worm  piek'd  from  the  finger  of  a 
milk-maid."  The  arachnoid  insect,  known  among  naturalists  as 
the  acarus  scabiei  or  common  itch  insect,  is  here  certainly  referred 
to.  It  was  formerly  supposed  that  this  parasite  found  its  way  into 
the  human  skin  from  many  of  the  animal  species,  as  the  dog,  and 
others  of  our  domestic  animals.  Several  persons  in  Paris  were  said 
to  have  contracted  the  disease  whilst  attending  upon  a  diseased 
camel.  We  see  in  the  extract  that  milk-maids  were  thought  to 
suffer  from  it,  which  would  give  us  to  think  it  communicable  from 
the  cow,  if  we  agree  with  the  text.  There  is  an  insect  somewhat 
akin  to  the  one  under  notice,  which  infests  cheese,  but  it  never 
affects  the  human  or  animal  system.  The  true  acarus  scabiei  is 
now  universally  believed  to  be  propagated  through  raw  or  brown 
cane  sugar;  hence  the  term  "finger  of  a  grocer's  maid"  would  in 
truth  have  been  more  appropriate  in  the  case  in  question  than  was 
that  of  milk-maid.  The  vaccine  disease,  afterwards  so  thoroughly 
studied  by  Jenner,  may  have  fallen  under  the  notice  of  Shakespeare, 
and  it  may  be  that  to  this  he  refers  in  the  quotation.  This  would 
get  the  itch  and  cow-pox  only  a  little  mixed.  "Hal,"  afterwards 
Henry  the  Fifth,  likens  Falstaff  to  a  "  wen." 

Prince  Henry.  (To  Poins.J  "I  do  allow  this  wen  to  be  as 
familiar  with  me  as  my  dog;"  and  again  in  "Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor:" 

Falstaff.     "  Well,  sir,  I  am  almost  out  at  heels. 

Pistol.     Why  then  let  kibes  ensue." 

We  recognize  no  such  a  malady  as  "kibes"  in  our  modern 
nosology ;  but  in  former  times  it  was  in  use,  and  meant  to  "  chap" 
or  crack  open  from  cold,  as  in  chilblains.  The  term  is  said  to  be 
of  Persian  origin, — the  affection  being,  as  intimated  by  Pistol,  most 
common  about  the  heels. 

"You  rub  the  sore,  when  you  should  bring  the  plaster — and, 
most  chirurgeously." — "  The  Tempest." 

"To  strange  sores,  strangely  they  strain  the  cure." — "Much 
Ado  About  Nothing."     Was  the  elastic  bandage  here  presaged? 

Thersites  tells  us  what  he  knew  about  boils,  as  does  also  Coriola- 
nus  in  his  anathemas  upon  his  ungrateful  countrymen.  Timon  of 
Athens  speaks  of  "  ulcerous  sores,"  whilst  Charmian,  in  "  Antony 
and  Cleopatra,"  excuses  herself  from  a  game  of  billiards  on  the 
score  of  a  sore  arm.     (Wonder  if  she  hadn't  been  vaccinated.) 


DERMATOLOGY.  167 

The  following  extract  is  from  "  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream :" 

"  So  shall  all  the  couples  three, 
Ever  true  in  loving  be  ; 
And  the  blots  of  Nature's  hand 
Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand : 
Never  mole,  hare-lip,  nor  scar, 
Nor  mark  prodigious,  such  as  are 
Despised  in  nativity. 
Upon  their  children  be." 

And  in  "Cymbeline:"  "  On  her  left  breast  a  mark  cinque-spotted, 
like  the  crimson  drops  i'  the  bottom  of  a  cowslip,"  and  "  upon  his 
neck  a  mole,  a  sanguine  star:  it  was  a  mark  of  wonder." 

In  speculating  upon  the  first  of  these  extracts,  it  may  be  re- 
marked that  the  "fates"  probably  understood  few  of  the  "tricks 
that  are  7iot  vane"  in  the  hands  of  nature, — if  they  had,  it  is 
hardly  probable  that  so  rash  a  promise  as  that  their  children  should 
possess  neither  "  mole,  blot  nor  scar,"  would  have  been  made, — 
as  it  is  an  unalterable  fact  that  to  have  sound  fruit  we  must  have 
perfect  parentage ;  [parents  who  are  either  morally,  mentally  or 
phj^sically  imperfect  may  transmit  their  characteristics  to  their 
progeny,  and  it  seems  to  be  an  established  fact  as  regards  acquired 
imperfections  as  well  as  those  that  are  inherent  in  individuals :  thus 
crop  your  dog's  tail,  and  his  offspring  may  ajDpear  minus  the  caudal 
appendage, — if  not  in  the  first  or  second — may  be  in  the  third  gen- 
eration— atavism.  This  will  happen  the  more  surely  if  both  the 
male  and  female  parents  be  so  treated.  Blumenbach  remembered  a 
man  whose  little  finger  of  the  right  hand  was  left  crooked  after  an 
injury;  several  of  his  sons  at  birth  had  the  identical  deformity  in 
their  right  hand.  Two  brothers  at  Brussels  were  micropthalmic 
in  the  left  eye ;  their  father  had  lost  the  left  eye  fifteen  years  be- 
fore his  marriage.  A  lady  at  Dover,  England,  was  frightened  by  a 
ferret  whilst  enciente;  every  child  born  after  that  had  eyes  like  the 
animal,  and  they  all  became  blind,  or  nearly  so,  at  the  age  of  pu- 
berty. Brown-Sequard  noted  a  case  where  a  man  became  epileptic 
after  a  fall  in  which  the  dorsal  vertebrae  were  shattered ;  he  mar- 
ried and  his  son  became  epileptic,  though  there  had  not  before  been 
epilepsy  in  the  family  previous  to  the  father's  injury,  I  myself 
know  a  circumstance  where  the  mother,  and  daughters  in  three  gen- 
erations following, — that  is  to  say,  from  child  to  great  grandmother, 


168  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

each  had  a  small  encysted  tumor  of  the  scalp  exactly  in  the  same 
situation,  and  all  of  the  same  nature.  But  the  most  beautiful  and 
satisfactory  results  of  this  power  of  transmission  are  seen  in  the 
inferior  animals,  where  many  of  the  traits  may  be  directly  propa- 
gated from  one  living  and  mature  being  to  another  mature  being, — 
of  the  same  species  or  not,  and  afterwards  these  characteristics 
may  be  transmitted  to  the  progeny.  This  is  illustrated  by  the 
stripes  on  the  shoulders  and  legs  of  the  horse  colt  when  the  mother 
has  previously  borne  mules  ;  and  is  sometimes  also  seen  in  the  hu- 
man family  when  the  children  of  a  second  husband  resemble  in 
physical,  mental  or  moral  traits  the  mother's  former  husband. 
Through  the  relation  of  parentage  the  husband  and  wife  may  also 
impress  upon  each  other  their  peculiarities — as  in  becoming  to  re- 
semble each  other  in  personal  appearance,  tastes,  habits,  mental 
traits,  etc.  Association,  in  young  married  people,  together  with 
the  identity  of  conditions  of  physical  and  mental  growth,  may  con- 
tribute to  this  end,  but  for  its  most  complete  attainment  they  must 
have  "mingled  bloods"  in  the  great  office  of  propagation.  But 
as  I  started  out  to  say  before,  these  strange  powers  of  transmission 
are  best  seen  in  the  lower  orders  of  animal  creation, — as  for  in- 
stance in  the  guinea-pig. 

Experiments  upon  nervous  phenomena  by  Dr.  Brown-Sequard 
show  that  in  the  guinea-pig  exposure  of  the  spinal  cord,  or  severe 
injury  to  a  large  nerve  trunk,  will  be  followed  by  convulsions  by 
irritating  what  he  calls  the  "  epileptic  zone," — a  small  spot  of  skin 
near  the  ear.  In  animals  before  mentioned  as  having  received  a 
nervous  injury,  convulsions  may  be  produced  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
experimenter  by  touching  this  special  point  of  the  cutaneous  sur- 
face. When  recovery  of  the  injured  nerve  takes  place,  the  hair 
always  falls  from  the  "convulsive  zone;" — but  what  I  more  par- 
ticularly wished  to  notice  is  the  fact  that  the  young  of  these  epi- 
leptic animals,  brought  forth  after  recovery,  have  the  same  epileptic 
seizures,  and  recovery  is  preceded  by  falling  off  of  the  hair  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  place !  And  further, — he  remarked  that  the  ani- 
mals under  experiment  often  eat  off  the  toes  of  a  paralyzed  limb, 
and  that  in  the  young  of  the  toeless  father  or  mother  the  progeny 
would  also  appear  with  the  same  member  missing!  This  is  a  cu- 
rious and  interesting  subject,  and  merits  the  close  attention  of  the 
physiologist  and  gynaecologist. 

It  appears  that  aesthetics  received  a  proper  share  of  attention  in 


DERMATOLOGY.  169 

past   ages,  as  well   as  in   this   present    "fast"   age  of  the  world. 
"  Timon  of  Athens  "  in  his  misanthropic  rage  talks  thus : 

"  Whore  still :  paint  till  a  horse  may  mire  upon  your  face,"  and 
in  "  Cymbeline  "  he  speaks  of  "  some  jay  of  Italy,  who  smothers 
her  with  painting,  hath  betrayed  him,"  thus  giving  us  information 
to  the  effect  that  the  "rouge"  and  "pearl  powders"  found  their 
votaries  in  old  times  as  they  do  to-day,  mainly  among  the  demi 
monde.  That  sensible  people  then  looked  upon  the  custom  of 
"painting"  as  they  now  do,  we  may  infer  from  a  passage  in 
"  Twelfth  Night :  " 

Olivia.  "Have  you  any  commission  from  your  lord  to  negotiate 
with  my  face?  We  will  draw  the  curtain  and  show  you  the  picture. 
Look,  you,  sir ;  such  a  one  I  am  at  this  present :  is't  not  well  done? 

Viola.  {In  the  garb  of  a  youth.)  Excellently  done,  if  God  did 
all. 

Olivia.     'Tis  ingrain,  sir;  'twill  indure  wind  and  weather. 

Viola.  'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,  whose  red  and  white  nature's 
own  sweet  cunning  hand  laid  on.  Lady,  you  are  the  cruelest  she 
alive,  if  you  will  lead  those  graces  to  the  grave,  and  leave  the 
world  no  copy." 

The  term  "  let  her  paint  an  inch  thick,"  is  also  used,  which  tells 
us  that  the  habit  of  "spreading  it  on  heavy"  was  perhaps  not  a 
strange  proceeding  to  the  "  ancient  fair,"  whilst  the  same  is  hinted 
at  by  "  Clown"  in  "  Measure  for  Measure." 

The  second  portion  of  this  chapter,  as  previously  intimated,  will 
be  devoted  to  the  consideration  of  syphilography. 

In  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  Lucio,  the  fantastic,  in  conversation 
with  two  gentlemen : 

1st  Gentleman.     "Do  I  speak  feelingly? 

Lucio.  I  think  thou  dost ;  and,  indeed,  with  most  powerful  feel- 
ing of  speech:  I  will,  out  of  mine  own  confession,  learn  to  begin 
thy  health  ;  but,  whilst  I  live,  forget  to  drink  after  thee. 

1st  Gentleman.     I  think  I  have  done  myself  wrong,  have  I  not? 

2d  Gentleman.     Yes,  thou  hast,  whether  thou  art  tainted  or  free. 

Lucio.     Behold,  behold,  where  Madam  Mitigation  comes  ! 

1st  Gentleman.  I  have  purchased  as  many  diseases  under  her 
roof,  as  comes  to 

2d  Gentleman.     To  what,  I  pray  ? 


170  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

Lucio.     Judge. 

2d  Gentleman.     To  three  thousand  dollars  a-year. 

1st  Gentleman.     Ay,  and  more. 

Lucio.     A  French  crown  more. 

2d  Gentleman.  Thou  art  always  figuring  diseases  in  me ;  but 
thou  art  full  of  error :    I  am  sound. 

Lucio.  Nay,  not  as  one  would  say  healthy ;  but  so  sound  as 
things  that  are  hollow :  thy  bones  are  hollow  ;  impiety  hath  made  a 
feast  of  thee." 

In  the  first  paragraph  of  the  foregoing  it  will  be  perceived  that 
direct  reference  is  made  to  the  throat  lesion  of  secondary  syphilis, 
the  lesion  of  articulation,  and  the  danger  incident  to  drinking  after 
(from  the  same  vessel)  a  person  so  contaminated  is  almost  directly 
stated.  Lucio  proved  his  own  wisdom  in  that  matter,  if  he  knew 
nothing  else  of  value  ;  and  his  determination  to  always  forget  to 
drink  after  the  gentleman  is  worthy  to  be  imitated  by  every  think- 
ing person.  Indeed  J  have  long  practiced  the  habit  of  avoiding  all 
places  of  public  resort  for  the  purpose  of  taking  a  drink  of  water, 
because  syphilitio  and  other  loathsome  affections  often  cling  to  the 
lips  and  fingers  of  those  resorting  to  them ;  particularly  is  the 
syphilitic  poison  wide-spread  among  the  transient  portion  of  man- 
kind ;  and  one  does  not  know  what  moment  he  might  innocently 
place  this  the  most  loathsome  contagion  to  his  lips,  by  the  use  of  a 
public  dipper,  or  by  the  hand-towel  in  the  wash-room  of  an  hotel. 

The  ravages  made  by  pock  upon  the  osseous  system  seems  to 
have  been  clearly  comprehended  by  Shakespeare,  from  the  language 
used  at  the  conclusion  of  the  extract ;  and  though  the  disease  had 
then  been  of  comparatively  recent  introduction  into  Europe  (it  is 
claimed  from  America),  yet  it  had  been  pretty  thoroughly  studied 
we  may  suppose  from  this  apparent  familiarity  with  it  by  the  un- 
professional. 

This  same  pedantic  fellow,  Lucio,  in  a  conversation  with  the 
Duke  thus  demeans  himself.     (Duke  in  disguise.) 

Lucio.  "  I  was  once  before  him  (the  duke)  for  getting  a  wench 
with  child. 

Duke.     Did  you  such  a  thing? 

Lucio.  Yes,  marry  did  I;  but  I  was  fain  to  forswear  it:  they 
would  else  have  married  me  to  the  rotten  medlar."  ('Twould  have 
been  too  good  for  him. ) 


DERMATOLOGY.  171 

Falstaff' s  quandary  as  to  whether  he  was  afflicted  with  gout  or 
syphilis  has  been  touched  upon  in  the  chapter  on  neurology ; 
in  the  remarks  there  made,  it  is  stated  that  notwithstanding  the 
fact  of  the  pain  which  gave  rise  to  the  thought,  being  situated  in 
the  great  toe  in  place  of  the  "  shin,"  yet  knowing  the  lascivious 
habits  of  "Sir  John,"  and  the  exceedingly  diverse  phases  which 
syphilitic  lesions  assume,  we  were  inclined  to  believe  "  a  gout  o' 
this  pox  "  true  in  this  case  of  the  "  knight."  We  are  strengthened 
in  the  position  there  taken,  by  the  following  conversation : 

Falstajff.     "  How  now.  Mistress  Doll? 

Hostess.     Sick  of  a  calm :  yea,  good  sooth. 

Falstaff.  So  is  all  her  sex;  an  they  be  once  in  a  calm,  they  are 
sick. 

Doll.     You  mauddy  rascal,  is  that  all  the  comfort  you  give  me? 

Falstaff.     You  make  fat  rascals.  Mistress  Doll. 

Doll.  I  make  them?  Gluttony  and  diseases  make  them :  I  make 
them  not. 

Falstaff.  If  the  cook  helps  to  make  the  glutton,  you  help  to 
make  the  diseases,  Doll:  we  catch  of  you,  Doll,  we  catch  of  you  ; 
grant  that,  my  virtue,  grant  that." 

As  to  the  treatment  of  syphilis  it  is  apparent  that  local  treatment 
in  the  form  of  baths  must  have  been  common  in  Shakespeare's 
time  if  we  look  to  the  following  in  "  Timon  of  Athens:  " 

Timon.     "Art  thou  Timandra? 

Timandra.     Yes. 

Timon.  Be  a  whore  still !  they  love  thee  not  that  use  thee :  give 
them  diseases,  leaving  with  thee  their  lust.  Make  use  of  thy 
salt  hours  ;  season  the  slaves  for  tubs  and  baths  ;  bring  down  rose- 
cheeked  youth  to  the  tub  fast,  and  the  diet." 

Perhaps  it  is  the  worse  for  our  patients  that  we  do  not  adopt  a 
rigid  course  of  bathing  and  personal  purification  in  syphilis ;  espe- 
cially might  it  benefit  those  in  whom  the  cutaneous  system  is  deeply 
involved  ;  cleanliness  is  a  most  God-like  virtue,  and  as  a  prophylac- 
tic measure — nay  often  a  curative  means,  its  worth  is  beyond  esti- 
mate. 

Ricord,  Videlle  nor  Bumstead  could  hardly  paint  a  better  pen- 
picture  of  the  ravages  of  syphilis  than  did  this  same  cynical  old 
Timon  on  another  occasion  when  in  conversation  with  one  whom  he 
accuses  of  harlotry. 


172  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

Timon.  "Consumption  sow  in  hollow  bones  of  men;  strike 
their  sharp  shins,  and  mar  men's  spurring.  Crack  the  lawyer's 
voice,  that  he  may  never  more  false  title  plead,  nor  sound  his  quil- 
lets shrilly  ;  down  with  the  nose,  down  with  it  flat ;  take  the  bridge 
away  from  him,  make  curl'd  pate  ruffians  bald;  and  let  the  un- 
scarr'd  braggarts  of  the  war  derive  some  pain  from  you." 

There  cannot  be  found  in  the  writings  of  the  ablest  medical  au- 
thority of  this  age,  a  more  terse  and  truthful  picture  of  syphilis 
than  is  seen  in  these  words  of  the  sour  old  Timon.  His  description 
is  indeed  a  marvel  of  accuracy.  Witness  the  allusion  to  the  throat, 
nasal  and  other  osseous  lesions — the  fauces,  vomer,  tibia,  etc.,  being 
special  points  of  involvement  in  the  tertiary  state  of  the  malady. 

Hamlet.     "  How  long  will  a  man  lie  i'  the  earth  ere  he  rot? 

Clown.  'Faith,  if  he  be  not  rotten  before  he  die  (as  we  have 
many  pocky  cases  now-a-days,  that  will  scarce  hold  the  lying  in), 
he  will  last  you  some  eight  year,  or  nine  year :  a  tanner  will  last 
you  nine  year." 

Thus  it  is  seen  that  the  "  owner  of  a  foul  disease  "  (Hamlet,  iv., 
i.)  is  punished  even  in  the  solitudes  of  the  grave,  by  returning  to 
dust  much  more  rapidly,  than  do  virtuous  men. 

Lysimachus,  in  "Pericles,"  enquires  of  the  bawd:  "How 
now,  wholesome  iniquity!  have  you  that  a  man  may  deal  withal, 
and  defy  the  surgeon?  " 

And  the  same  gentleman  in  his  interview  with  the  virtuous 
Marina  whose  ill-luck  had  placed  her  in  this  den  where  "  no  heretics 
were  burn'd  but  wenches'  suitors"  (Lear,  iii.,ii.),  she  assured  him 
that  "  since  I  came  (here),  diseases  have  been  sold  dearer  than 
physic," — a  truth  which  holds  good  even  now  whilst  I  write.  It  is 
known  to  every  doctor  that  the  degraded  scoundrel  who  gives  his 
last  five  dollars  for  the  privilege  of  getting  the  malady  will  spend 
thirty  in  trying  to  evade  the  payment  of  the  twenty  he  owes  his 
surgeon  for  curing  him. 

"When  the  medical  profession  makes  it  four  times  as  costly  for 
this  class  of  patients  to  get  rid  of  the  malady  as  it  is  to  catch  it, 
there  will  be  less  need  of  "  contagious  disease  acts"  and  "bawdy- 
house  inspectors,"  and  all  that, — and  the  service  will  then  only  be 
awarded  pay  according  to  its  worth.  There  is  no  class  of  practice 
in  which  the  fees  are   so  loosely  and  foolishly  conducted  as  this ; 


DERMATOLOGY.  173 

and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  medical  organizations  everywhere  will 
sometime  make  it  incumbent  upon  members  always  to  "  bleed"  this 
class  of  patients — not  in  the  "  bend  of  the  arm"  but  in  the  purse. 
The  idea  that  syphilis  may  be  propagated  through  the  blood  of  a 
person  so  affected,  and  that  by  microscopic  observation  we  may 
detect  in  it  certain  syphilitic  characteristics,  finds  some  old  footing 
in  an  assertion  made  by  Andreas  Csesalpinus  to  the  effect  that  when 
the  Spaniards  abandoned  the  town  of  Somma,  near  Mount  Vesu- 
vius, they  mixed  blood  from  the  patients  in  the  hospital  of  St. 
Lazarus  with  all  the  wine  in  the  place,  and  thereby  infected  with 
syphilis  all  who  drank  it.  This  happened  early  after  its  alleged 
American  origin.     The  bacterial  theory  might  account  for  this. 


CHAPTER  VII, 


ORGANOLOGY. 


The  stomach — Power  of  mind  over  function — Voluntary  inanition — Its 
Pathology — What  a  physiologist! — Dietetic  ideas  of  a  hostess — An  apt  com- 
parison— The  irritability  of  hunger — A  plain  road — An  error  explained — The 
woodman  and  his  belt — Seat  of  the  affections — Gin-drinker's  liver — Cause 
for  effect — Smiling  at  grief — Lewdness  and  poverty — Illustrated — Sentiment 
reversed — The  badge  of  cowardice— The  truth  in  popular  ideas — Then  live, 
Macduff — Sleep  in  spite  of  thunder— Pulmonary  gangrene — Benedick,  the 
married  man — Thaw'd  out — A  pertinent  conclusion — A  blind  philosopher — 
How  are  you  'fraid! — Latent  senses — The  green  flap — Some  new  infection — 
An  enquiry — An  amusing  incident— "  Hal's  "  vocabulary — Renal  functions — 
Sympathetic  flbrillae- Carry  his  water  to  the  wise  woman — What  says  the 
doctor  to  my  water? — A  sensible  doctor,  for  a  wonder — Changes  in  the  kid- 
ney— Nose  painting — A  sure  sign — Taste  not — A  cheap  article — "  When  I  was 
about  thy  years,  Hal" — The  lean  and  hungry  Cassius — He  smiles  in  such  a 
sort— Drawing  the  fire  out — A  parody— An  exploded  barbarity — Mr.  Strib- 
ling,  the  druggist — The  blood  is  the  life — Blasting  a  good  resolve — Man  im- 
proves with  his  condition — A  plea  for  the  lancet— Palpitation — Good  air  as 
an  agent — Much  effuse  of  blood,  etc. 

Though  not  of  the  most  rigidly  appropriate  character,  it  is  pro- 
posed to  include  under  the  title  "  organology"  all  subjects  pertain- 
ing to  the  different  organs  and  structures  of  the  body  that  have  not 
before  been  noticed,  and  whilst  we  are  aware  that  the  arrangement 
may  not  escape  criticism,  we  can  only  ask  that  he  who  may  find 
fault  with  it  may  find  the  inclination,  at  some  future  time,  to  accom- 
plish the  very  same  task  better. 

The  first  organ  to  claim  our  notice  is  that  fundamentally  import- 
ant one — the  stomach. 

It  has  been  said  in  a  former  page,  that  unquiet  meals  make  ill 
digestions, — the  truth  of  which  has  forced  itself  upon  the  notice  of 
most  persons,  no  doubt.  It  seems  that  the  function  of  alimentation 
is  more  closely  allied  to  the  proper  working  condition  of  the  brain  and 
nervous  system  than  most  other  functions  of  the  body.    Strong  emo- 

174 


ORGANOLOGY.  175 

tional  conditions  of  the  mind  may  not  only  suspend  the  normal 
functions  of  this  viscus, — impair  them  for  a  time,  but  may  in  rare 
instances  totally  destroy  them,  Within  the  last  week,  a  man  ar- 
rested and  confined  in  our  county  jail,  on  a  clear  charge  of  murder, 
refused  food  from  the  time  of  his  arrest,  until  his  death  took  place 
from  inanition, — in  perfect  health,  otherwise,  seemingly.  In  these 
cases  there  is  actually  no  demand  for  food,  from  the  simple  fact 
that  the  nerves, — the  gastric  distribution  of  the  parvagum,  lose, 
through  the  powerful  mental  shock,  their  proper  function, — and 
no  hunger  is  felt.  In  cases  of  voluntary  abstinence,  like  that  of 
Tanner  and  others,  the  freedom  from  mental  perturbation  is  the 
main  factor  in  their  power  of  indurance,  though  after  a  time,  this 
same  "abstinence"  may  and  does  "engender  maladies"  as  its 
sequence,   as  we  have  it  asserted  in  "Love's  Labor  Lost." 

In  "Richard  the  Second,"  John  of  Gaunt  is  made  to  say — 
"things  sweet  to  taste  prove  in  digestion  sour,"  which  would  lead 
us  to  believe  that  the  chemistry  of  the  assimilative  process  was 
understood  by  Shakespeare  as  well  as  most  of  our  modern  phy- 
sicians,— whilst  we  may  exclaim,  what  a  physiologist  he  might  have 
become!  This  remark  may,  however,  be  applied  to  other  appetites 
besides  that  of  the  stomach ;  and  doubtless  John  only  used  it  as  a 
metaphor. 

It  appears  that  in  the  day  of  Mrs.  Quickly  it  was  not  thought 
meet  that  one  tax  their  digestive  powers  too  far, — and  Mrs.  Quickly, 
who  was  an  innkeeper,  seems  to  have  been  one  to  entertain  thoughts 
of  so  wholesome  a  kind.     We  hear  her  arguments  upon  this  subject 


176 


SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 


"  Hal  came  down  on  Sir  John's  pate  with  a  bottle." 

upon  an  occasion  when  "  Hal"  came  down  on  "  Sir  John's"  pate 
with  a  bottle  for  likening  the  king  to  a  singing-man  of  Windsor. 

Mrs.  Quickly.  "  Thou  didst  swear  to  me  then,  as  I  was  washing 
thy  wounds,  to  marry  me,  to  make  me  "my  lady"  thy  wife.  Canst 
thou  deny  it?  Did  not  good-wife  Keech,  the  butcher's  wife,  come 
in  then,  and  call  me  gossip  Quickly?  coming  in  to  borrow  a  mess 
of  vinegar?  telling  us  she  had  a  good  dish  of  prawns,  whereby 
thou  didst  desire  to  eat  some,  whereby  I  told  thee  they  were  ill  for 
a  green  wound."  The  term  "green  wound"  is  also  used  in  "Henry 
the  Fifth,"  an  idea  erroneous  enough  certainly,  but  part  and  parcel 
of  the  notions  of  that  day  it  appears. 

Henry  the  Fourth  likens  the  stomach  to  fortune  that  gives  single- 
handed  ; — "  she  either  gives  a  stomach  and  no  food — such  are  the 
poor  (in  purse)  ;  or  else  a  feast  and  no  appetite, — such  are  the  rich 
that   have  abundance   and    enjoy   it  not :    but   the   illustration   of 


ORGANOLOGY.  177 

Menenius,  who  compares  with  the  digestive  system  the  governor  of 
a  province,  is  very  good. 

Menenius.  "There  was  a  time  when  all  the  body's  members 
rebell'd  against  the  belly;  thus  accus'd  it: 

That  only  like  a  gulf  did  it  remain  i'  the  midst  of  the  body,  idle 
and  inactive,  still  cupboarding  the  viands,  never  bearing  like  labour 
with  the  rest ;  where  the  other  instruments  did  see  and  hear,  devise, 
instruct,  walk,  feel,  and  mutually  participate,  did  minister  unto  the 
appetite,  and  affection  common  to  the  whole  bod3^ 

The  belly  answered. — 

Citizen.     Well,  sir,  what  answer  made  the  belly? 

Menenius.  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  will  bestow  a  small  (of  what 
you  have  a  little)  patience  awhile,  you'll  hear  the  belly's  answer. 

Citizen.     Y'  are  long  about  it. 

Menenius.  Note  me  this,  good  friend ;  your  most  grave  belly 
was  deliberate,  not  rash  like  his  accusers,  and  answered:  'True  is 
it,  my  incorporate  friends,'  quoth  he,  'that  I  receive  the  general 
food  at  first,  which  you  do  live  upon  ;  and  fit  it  is,  because  I  am 
the  storehouse,  and  the  shop  of  the  whole  body:  but  if  you  do 
remember,  I  send  it  through  the  rivers  of  your  blood,  even  to  the 
heart,  the  brain,  the  strongest  nerves,  and  small  inferior  veins ; 
they  all  receive  from  me  that  natural  competency  whereby  they 
live  ;'  "  and  the  irritable  humor  of  a  hungry  man,  is  given  by  this 
same  Menenius,  in  good  style,  in  a  conversation  with  Sicinius,  one 
of  the  "  tribunes  of  the  people:" 

Menenius.  "He  was  not  taken  well  (meaning  that  he  was  not 
approach'd  at  the  proper  time)  ;  he  had  not  dined  :  the  veins  unfill'd, 
our  blood  is  cold,  and  then  we  pout  upon  the  morning,  are  unapt 
to  give  or  to  forgive ;  but  when  we  have  stuffed  these  pipes,  and 
these  conveyances  of  blood  with  wine  and  feeding,  we  have  suppler 
souls  than  in  our  priest-like  fasts:  therefore,  I'll  watch  him  till  he 
be  dieted  to  my  request,  and  then  I'll  set  upon  him. 

Brutus.  You  know  the  very  road  into  his  kindness,  and  cannot 
lose  your  way." 

It  is  quoted  by  Darwin,  as  the  saying  of  a  certain  physician,  that 
this  irritability  of  temper  so  conspicuously  noticeable  in  a  hungry 
man,  is  often  converted  by  him,  unconsciously,  into  actual  anger — 
in  or  by  which  state  he  is  stimulated  into  a  more  bearable  condition, 
both  mentally  and  physically. 


V 


178  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

This  same  authority  tells  us  a  truth  but  partially  when  he  says 
that  "good  digestion  waits  on  appetite,  and  health  on  both," 
because  it  is  well  known  that  there  is  often  an  abundance  of  appe- 
tite with  no  digestion  at  all ; — yet  we  admit  the  truth  of  the  latter 
portion  of  the  paragraph,  as  healthy  appetite  attended  by  good 
digestion  are  the  almost  certain  concomitants  of  good  health. 

It  seems  that  the  great  author  was  in  error  as  to  the  modus 
operandi  of  a  dinner  in  producing  a  placid  mind ;  it  cannot  be 
the  "  filling  of  the  vein" — neither  the  "stuffing  of  the  pipes  and 
conveyances,"  as  a  result  of  drinking  and  feasting,  which  bring 
about  this  praiseworthy  result,  for  in  that  event  it  would  only  be 
manifested  some  hours  perhaps  after  meals,  whereas  it  usually 
supervenes  very  speedily  after  a  sumptuous  dinner.  I  suspect  that 
it  is  this  gastric  division  of  the  "  eighth  pair  "  that  here  again 
raises  the  quarrel,  and  that  the  savory  viands  yexy  soon  apply  their 
pacifying  antidote  to  the  millions  of  its  fibrillse  which  ramify  upon 
the  inner  or  mucous  coating  of  the  stomach  ;  these  same  victuals 
perhaps  also  acting  mechanically  in  some  degree  in  producing  the 
same  effect, — and  thus  for  once  transforms  a  cross  and  oft-times 
unreasonable  nondescript  into  a  benign  and  pleasant  husband  and 
gentleman. 

Speaking  of  the  mechanical  action  of  food  upon  the  stomach — it 
will  be  recollected  by  the  reader  that  this  "pressure"  upon  the 
nerves  and  tissues  of  the  organ  need  not  always  be  made  from  the 
interior  of  its  cavity ;  but  that  pressure  from  without  will  in  some 
degree  produce  the  same  effect. 

Remember  the  woodman  who  prepared  himself  to  be  absent  at 
his  camp  a  fortnight,  and  who  in  the  place  of  food  supplied  himself 
with  a  broad  leathern  belt  supplied  with  buckles  and  twelve  holes ; 
he  took  up  his  belt  one  "  hole  "  each  day,  and  at  the  end  of 
two  weeks  was  as  sprightly  as  the  "  buck"  of  his  native  woods. 

The  liver  was,  by  the  ancients,  supposed  to  be  the  seat  of  the 
affections,  and  in  this  fact  we  have  an  explanation  of  Btron's  (not 
B^/ron's)  talking  of — "this  is  the  liver  vein,"  after  having  read 
some  lines  of  erotic  poetry;  the  line  is  found  in  "Love's  Labor 
Lost." 

Gratiano,  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  puts  matters  in  a  sen- 
sible shape,  thus:  "  With  mirth  and  laughter  let  old  wrinkles  come, 
and  let  my  liver  rather  heat  with  wine,  than  my  heart  cool  with 
mortifying  groans.    Why  should  a  man  whose  blood  is  warm  within, 


ORGANOLOGY. 


179 


sit   like   his  grand-sire  cut  in  alabaster?  sleep  when  he  wakes,  and 
creep  into  the  jaundice  by  being  peevish?  " 

Here  we  have  an  honorable  and  ancient  precedent  for  "  hobnail 
liver,"  and  he  who  chooses  to  follow  the  example  can  do  so  without 
the  fear  of  being  charged  with  a  design  to  innovate  upon  the  old 
and  well  established  customs. 


The  woodman  who  prepared  himself  with  a  leathern  belt. 

In  regard  to  a  man's  "creeping  into  jaundice  through  peevish- 
ness " — the  effect  is  mistaken  for  the  cause ;  old  "Shake"  got  his 
cart  before  the  horse  that  once.  He  had  doubtless  "  let  his  liver 
heat  with  wine  "  on  that  occasion.  This  same  idea  as  to  the  effects 
of  excessive  alcoholic  stimulation  upon  the  liver  is  seen  also  in 
"Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  A.  i.,  S.  ii.  ;  and  the  confounding  of 
cause  and  effect  named  above  is  corrected  in  a  line  in  "  Troilus  and 
Cressida,"  when  he  says  "  what  grief  hath  set  the  jaundice  on 
your  cheeks? " 

The  idea — erroneous  as  it  is,  and  though  antiquated  as  the  ever- 


180  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

lasting  hills, — which  makes  the  liver  the  seat  of  love  and  pusil- 
lanimity, finds  many  places  to  crop  out  in  the  writings  of  Shake- 
speare ;  of  the  former,  Rosalind  gives  a  negative  attest  when  she 
wishes  to  "wash  the  liver  of  Orlando  as  clean  as  a  sound  sheep's 
heart,  that  there  shall  not  be  one  spot  of  love  left  in  't,"  whilst  in 
"Twelfth  Night"  "  The  Duke  "  and  Viola  speculate  on  the  con- 
nexion between  the  liver  and  the  tender  passion  in  this  style : 

Duke.  "Alas!  their  love  maybe  called  appetite,  no  motion  of 
the  liver,  but  the  palate,  that  suffers  surfeit,  cloyment,  and  revolt; 
but  mine  is  hungry  as  the  sea,  and  can  digest  as  much ;"  when 
Viola,  detailing  the  depths  of  her  own  affections, — she  "  pin'd  in 
thought,  and  with  a  green  and  yellow  melancholy,  she  sat  like 
Patience  on  a  monument,  smiling  at  grief."  In  this  we  see  the 
notion  of  a  close  relationship  between  melancholia  and  a  deranged 
hepatic  function.  "This  wins  him,  liver  and  all,"  says  Fabian, 
whilst  listening  to  the  reading  of  the  letter  by  his  dupe  Malvolio. 
"Put  fire  in  your  heart  and  brimstone  in  your  liver,"  was  another 
of  the  shrewd  suggestions  of  the  same  fellow. 

In  an  allusion  to  the  supposition  that  lewdness  and  poverty  go 
hand  in  hand.  Prince  Henry  speaks  of  "hot  livers"  and  "cold 
purses,"  and  Falstaff,  in  his  wrangle  with  the  Chief  Justice,  assures 
him  that  "  you,  that  are  old,  consider  not  the  capacities  of  us  that 
are  young:  you  measure  the  heat  of  our  livers  with  the  bitterness 
of  your  gall." 

Pistol,  one  of  the  riotous  companions  of  Sir  John,  gives  us  an 
idea  as  to  the  causation  of  hepatitis,  in  the  instance  when  he  informs 
"Knight  Falstaff"  of  the  news  pertaining  to  his  "Doll,"  and 
"  Hellen  of  his  noble  thoughts," — the  which  thought  would  "in- 
flame his  noble  liver."  It  would  be  extremely  difficult  to  say 
what,  in  a  constitution  like  that  of  Falstaff,  might  serve  to  produce 
an  inflamed  liver  ;  if  cowardice,  love  or  wine  should  be  considered 
etiologic  of  liver  complaint,  we  should  expect  such  an  unmitigated 
old  lout  as  he  to  be  a  continued  series  of  afflictions. 

Leontes  in  his  jealous  obliquity  remarked  that  if  his  "  wife's  liver 
were  infected  as  her  life,  she  would  not  live  the  running  of  one 
glass."  In  this  quotation  we  again  find  sentiment  reversed: — 
"Were  my  wife's  life  affected  as  her  liver,  she  would  not  live  the 
running  of  one  glass, "^would  do  very  well,  and  would  be  in  har- 
mony with  the  general  tenor  of  the  sentiment  on  this  subject,  for 
it  will  be  remembered  that  he  claimed  his  wife  to  be  in  love  with 
Polixenes. 


ORGANOLOGY.  181 

Falstaff  comes  in  again  as  an  authority  upon  the  liver  question 
as  affecting  the  principles  of  heroism.  He  says:  "The  second 
property  of  your  excellent  sherries  is,  the  warming  of  the  blood, 
which,  before  cold  and  settled,  left  the  liver  white  and  pale,  which 
is  the  badge  of  pusillanimity  and  cowardice." 

The  "boy"  spoken  of  before  in  connection  with  the  demise  of 
Sir  John  Falstaff,  speaks  of  the  courage  of  Bardolph  in  this  light 
vein:  "He  is  white  liver'd  and  red  faced,  by  the  means  whereof 
'a  faces  it  out,  but  fights  not,"  whilst  Sir  Toby  Belch  declares  of  one 
of  the  characters  in  "  Twelfth  Night,"  that  the  blood  in  his  liver 
would  not  clog  the  foot  of  a  fl^a.  The  same  notion  as  to  the  color 
of  the  liver  under  similar  circumstances  is  found  in  "Richard  the 
Third,"  whilst  the  term  "  lily  liver'd  "  in  connection  with  a  lack 
of  personal  courage,  is  used  in  both  "Macbeth"  and  "King 
Lear."  The  notion  that  anger  is  productive  of  an  increased  physi- 
ological condition  of  the  liver,  finds  expression  in  "  Henry  the 
Eighth,"  and  also  in  "Troilus  and  Cressida,"  A.  i.,  S.  iii. 

It  is  said  that  most  all  notions  which  find  credence  among  the 
public  at  large,  no  difference  how  improbable  they  may  seem  to 
those  who  are  better  informed,  yet  have  some  truth  in  them ;  this, 
no  doubt,  is  the  fact  in  regard  to  the  wide-spread  belief  that  the 
hepatic  function  is  such  that  it  leaves  the  liver  white  in  all  cowards  ; 
though  here,  as  in  a  former  instance  or  two,  [the  confounding  of 
effect  and  cause  is  apparent.  The  influence  which  excited  states 
of  the  mind  exert  upon  the  various  organs  and  their  functions  is 
well  known  to  persons  conversant  with  the  science  of  physiology, — 
and  that  the  liver  should  bear  a  prominent  share  in  these  derange- 
ments of  function  we  need  not  be  at  a  loss  to  suppose  when  noting 
the  important  place  it  holds  in  the  vital  economy.  That  the  mental 
emotion  denominated  fear  makes  pale  also  the  heart  we  have  evi- 
dence in  "Macbeth,"  who  uses  tbe  memorable  words — "Then, 
live,  Macduff:  what  need  I  fear  of  thee?  But  yet  I'll  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  and  take  a  bond  of  fate :  thou  shalt  not  live ; 
that  I  may  tell  pale-hearted  fear  it  lies,  and  sleep  in  spite  of  thun- 
der." It  is  not  only  fear  that  exercises  a  depleting  influence  over 
the  liver  in  Shakespeare's  estimation,  but  he  says,  in  "Troilus  and 
Cressida,"  that  "  reason  and  respect  make  livers  pale,  and  lusti- 
hood  deject."  "Spotted  livers"  are  noted  there  also,  but  seem 
to  have  no  special  significance. 

The  lungs  are  spoken  of  in  "The  Tempest,"  where  lord  Adrian 


182  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

allows  "  the  air  breathes  upon  us  here  most  sweetly,"  to  which 
Sebastian  replies — "As  if  it  had  lungs,  and  rotten  ones,"  whilst 
Antonio  concludes  the  fancy  by  suggesting,  "or  as  'twere  perfumed 
by  a  fen," — having  reference  to  the  very  offensive  eminations  which 
escape  from  low  and  marshy  grounds  during  hot  weather. 

We  find  here  a  connection  of  the  two  conditions  of  the  lungs 
which  go  to  constitute  a  case  of  that  exceedingly  rare  malady — 
pulmonary  gangrene.  Whether  Shakespeare  was  reasoning  from 
analagous  conditions  as  observed  in  other  decomposing  animal 
material,  or  had  been  the  accidental  observer  of  a  case  of  real 
putrefaction  of  the  lung  tissue  (progressive,  of  course),  we  of 
course  have  no  means  of  knowing ;  but  sure  it  is,  he  came  very 
near  the  facts  for  a  person  who  was  merely  guessing. 

Benedick,  "the  married  man,"  does  not  seem  to  have  been  so 
fastidious  upon  the  health  conditions  of  the  woman  he  designed  to 
make  his  wife,  as  would  be  one  of  our  youths  in  1884 ;  for  whilst 
Beatrice  asserted  that  she  only  consented  to  wed  him  through  pity, 
he  avers  he  only  took  lier  because  he  had  been  told  she  was  in  a 
consumption!  This  would  go  near  to  be  the  truth  perhaps,  if 
Beatrice  was  old  and  wealthy,  and  lived  in  the  United  States  at  this 
era  (I  mean  not  the  consumption,  but  the  motive).  But  Beatrice 
had  no  tuberculosis — only  a  "whoreson  cold,  sir;  a  cough,  sir," 
which  soon  left  her  when  her  frigid  nature  was  thaw'd  out  by  the 
workings  of  her  nuptial  pleasures. 

The  extract  relative  to  the  demise  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  noticed 
in  this  work  in  the  chapter  on  neurology,  and  reading  thus : 

"  More  would  I,  but  my  lungs  are  wasted  so,  that  strength  of 
speech  is  utterly  denied  me,"  appears  to  have  been  merely  predi- 
cated upon  a  generally  exhausted  condition  of  the  vital  powers 
rather  than  to  have  depended  upon  an  actual  local  pulmonary  lesion. 
This  conclusion  is  reached  from  the  fact  that  no  antecedent  symptoms 
connected  with  the  case  are  sufficient  to  warrant  a  different  one. 

Old  Pandarus,  who  figures  quite  conspicuously  in  the  courting 
affairs  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  "had  it  bad"  if  we  are  to  place 
much  credence  in  the  old  fellow's  accuracy  of  judgment  after  hav- 
ing our  faith  so  badly  shaken  in  him  upon  remembering  his  failures 
on  the  woman  question.  He  says:  "A  whorseson  phthisic,  a  whore- 
son rascally  phthisic  so  troubles  me,  and  the  foolish  fortune  of 
this  girl ;  and  what  one  thing,  and  what  another,  that  I  shall  leave 
you  one  o'  these  day ; 


ORGANOLOGY.  183 

I'll  sweat  and  seek  about  for  eases, 

And  at  that  time  (death?)  will  bequeath  you  ray  diseases." 

It  seems  probable  that  if  this  person  had  a  whoreson  phthisic  at 
all,  that  it  was  likely  of  a  syphilitic  origin,  as  in  the  two  last  lines 
quoted  he  gives  us  some  hint  in  that  direction  ;  and  the  language  of 
Troilus,  whose  confidence  he  had  shamefully  abused  in  the  matter 
of  his  representations  respecting  the  virtues  of  Miss  Cressida, 
goes  far  toward  substantiating  the  conclusion : 

Troihis.  "Hence,  brothel-lackey!  ignominy  and  shame  pursue 
thy  life,  and  live  aye  with  thy  name. 

Pandarus.  A  goodi}'  medicine  for  mine  aching  bones !  O  world ! 
world!  world!  thus  is  the  poor  agent  despised."  The  mere  asser- 
tion, however,  that  he  would  bequeath  his  disease  does  not  make  it 
positive  that  he  had  not  a  whoreson  phthisic,  for  the  reason  simply 
that  it  is  now  proven  beyond  a  doubt  that  tuberculosis  is  directly 
transmissible  from  one  person  who  is  suffering  from  it  to  another 
who  is  in  good  health.  The  germs, — bacteria — may  be  carried  into 
the  system  of  a  sound  person  through  several  avenues,  or  by  more 
than  one  means,  viz. :  by  inoculating,  either  with  the  blood,  or  di- 
rectly with  tubercular  matter  ;  or  by  inhaling  the  detritus  from 
the  expiration  of  a  tubercular  patient ;  and  also,  perhaps,  by  ab- 
sorption— cutaneous  and  mucous,  as  in  occupying  the  same  couch 
with  a  tubercular  patient. 

The  matter  pertaining  to  the  pathology  of  the  respiratory  system 
having  been  noticed,  we  come  next  to  its  physiology.  In  this  direc- 
tion we  have  such  phrases  as  "so  shall  my  lungs  coin  words  till 
they  decay,"  "  thou  but  offend'st  thy  lungs  to  speak  so  loud,"  and 
"the  heaving  of  my  lungs  to  ridiculous  smiling,"  etc.,  etc.,  are 
some  of  them. 

An  extract  from  "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  which  is  inter- 
esting to  the  physiologist,  is  found  in  the  following: 

"Dark  night,  that  from  the  eye  his  function  takes, 
The  ear  more  quick  of  apprehension  makes  ; 
Wherein  it  doth  impair  the  seeing  sense, 
It  pays  the  hearing  double  recompense." 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  the  above  is  not  true — as  for  exam- 
ple in  the  case  of  a  physician  who  is  necessarily  out  much  of  nights; 
but  I  do  believe  a  person  learns  to,  or  acquires  the  power  to  see 
better  by  being  trained  in  the  school  of  night  perambulations ;  the 


184  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAK. 

transient  suspension  of  any  one  of  the  special  senses  will  not  be 
compensated  for  by  any  one  of  the  others  assuming  its  duties  in 
part  or  in  whole,  but  it  is  certainly  true  that  the  total  obliteration 
of  one  or  more  of  them,  and  a  long  schooling  of  those  which  remain 
perfect,  render  them  much  more  acutely  sensitive  to  their  wonted 
stimulus,  and  may  thus  often  in  some  degree  fill  the  principle  of 
compensation. 

I  had  Shakespeare's  idea,  as  above  expressed,  very  fairly  illus- 
trated some  years  ago  in  my  own  family.  There  was  sojourning  in 
the  village  where  we  then  resided,  a  gentleman  of  fine  intelligence 
who  was  congenitally  blind.  My  wife  chanced  to  be  calling  at  the 
house  of  a  lady  where  he  was  stopping,  and  he  heard  her  name 
called,  and  also  had  some  conversation  with  her ;  from  that  time 
forward  he  could  always  recognize  her  in  name  and  in  person  by 
the  voice  alone  ;  I  was  much  from  home  about  this  time,  and  my 
wife  was  considerably  exercised  as  to  the  probability  of  the  "blind 
man's"  wanting  to  stay  a  time  at  our  house,  as  he  had  been  com- 
plimenting most  of  the  neighbors  with  his  company  for  a  few  days 
each.  One  day  she  had  been  down  the  street  on  an  errrand,  and 
whilst  on  her  return  she  discovered  on  the  other  side  of  the  street, 
but  considerably  in  advance  of  her,  the  "blind  man,"  Mr.  Flem- 
ming,  making  his  way  in  the  same  direction ;  she  instantly  said  in  a 
low  tone  to  a  companion  who  was  with  her — "  Yonder  goes  the 
blind  man ;  I  don't  want  him  to  go  to  our  house,  for  I  am  afraid  of 
him." — "  How  are  you  afraid  !  "  suddenly  rang  out  sharp  and  clear 
from  the  poor  man's  lips.  She  was  much  surprised,  as  she  supposed 
that  at  that  distance  no  ordinary  ear  was  able  to  distinguish  the 
sound  of  an  ordinary  conversation,  little  less  the  exact  words. 
Here  this  power  of  compensation  had  doubtless  been  educated  to 
the  point  of  the  nicest  acuteness  as  a  necessity  to  the  welfare  of 
the  individual,  as  otherwise  he  no  doubt  would  have  encountered 
many  dangers  in  his  perambulations  about  the  country  entirely 
alone. 

Apropos  of  this  subject,  a  strange  story  comes  to  us  from  Europe, 
in  the  work  of  Mr.  W.  H.  Levy,  entitled  "Blindness  and  the 
Blind,"  in  which  he  tells  of  himself  that  although  he  is  totally 
blind  yet  he  has  the  power  to  distinguish  one  object  from  another — 
to  tell  perfectly  well  when  near  to  an  object,  etc.,  almost  as  well  as 
though  he  was  possessed  of  vision ;  he  can  distinguish  a  house 
from  a  shop,  or  a  board  fence  from  a  stone  wall, — tell  how  high  an 


ORGANOLOGY.  185 

object  near  him  may  be, — distinguish  a  stump  from  a  horse,  etc., 
with  much  precision.  This  power  he  terms  "facial  perception," 
or  the  power  of  seeing  with  the  face,  as  he  loses  the  faculty  when 
the  face  is  covered,  and  cannot  perform  the  function  with  any  other 
portion  of  the  surface,  though  it  be  uncovered.  Writers  call  this 
power  the  "  latent  sense,"  but  at  best  it  is  not  very  clearly  under- 
stood. "Sand-blind,"  "high  gravel  blind,"  are  terms  used  in 
the  "Merchant  of  Venice,"  and  seem  to  be  of  the  same  signifi- 
cance as  our  term  "stone  blind." 

"I  do  see  the  cruel  pangs  of  death,  bright  in  thine  eye,"  is 
found  in  "King  John,"  whilst  Thersites,  in  " Troilus  and  Cressida," 
tells  us  what  he  knows  about  ophthalmia  and  its  therapeutics  when 
he  likens  Patroclus  to  a  "  green  sarcinet  flap  for  a  sore  eye  ;  "  and 
the  man  Benvolio,  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  gives  us  his  in  the  oft- 
quoted  couplet : — 

"Take  now  some  new  infection  to  thine  eye. 
And  the  rank  poison  of  the  old  will  die." 

I  have  often  wondered  why  the  "green  flap  "  is  universally  worn 
in  these  cases  ;  I  can  think  of  no  optical  law  which  makes  it  either 
desirable  or  necessary.  In  the  couplet  is  embodied  the  whole  prin- 
ciple of  the  treatment  of  ophthalmic  affections,  namely:  the  pro- 
duction of  a  new  or  of  another  condition  in  the  structures  of  the  eye. 

"  Come  on  my  right  hand,"  for  this  ear  is  deaf,"  says  Caesar  to 
Antony.  This  infirmity  is  one  of  grave  annoyance,  as  the  writer 
can  attest  from  a  past  experience  ;  and,  like  Caesar  (in  one  particu- 
lar at  least),  he  always  wants  his  companion  on  his  right  hand ; 
indeed  it  is  unpleasant  for  one  to  ride  or  walk  to  his  left,  though  it 
be  in  silence,  so  confirmed  is  the  habit.  An  incid(  nt  occurred  in 
this  connection  a  year  or  so  ago,  when  on  a  horseback  ride  into  the 
country  with  a  strange  gentleman.  He,  upon  starting,  got  to  my 
left  hand, — as  I  supposed  by  chance ;  it  was  no  great  while  until  an 
opportunity  offered,  which  I  made  the  most  of,  by  riding  in  a  care- 
less manner  on  his  left ;  this  process  was  repeated  several  times 
during  tlie  trip,  until  at  last  it  was  evident  that  on  his  part  as  on 
my  own,  the  change  was  not  by  accident  but  by  design  ;  and  upon 
enquiry  it  was  found  that  the  worthy  gentleman  was  in  the  same 
unpleasant  predicament  as  Csesar  and  myself, — he  always  wanted 
his  Antony  on  his  right  hand,  as  his  left  ear  was  deaf. 

Epistaxis  is  noticed  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  and  pleuritis 


186  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

or  pleurodinia,  "side  stitches  that  shall  pen  the  breath  up,"  in 
"  The  Tempest,"  while  "  the  dropsy  drown  this  fool,"  and  "that 
swollen  parcel  of  dropsies,"  are  terms  in  the  vocabularies  of  Cala- 
ban  and  Prince  "Hal."  If  we  take  the  latter  as  veritable  fact,  it 
gives  us  another  argument  in  the  chain  of  evidence  that  old  "  Sir 
John"  was  miasmatic,  as  it  is  a  well  known  fact  that  abdominal 
dropsies  are  a  very  frequent  concomitant  of  malarial  poisonings, 
and  the  term  was  applied  by  the  prince  to  his  old  friend — "Jack 
Falstaff,  gentleman." 

The  renal  function  is  noticed  first  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice," 
in  this  way:  "Some  are  mad  if  they  behold  a  cat;  and  others, 
when  the  bagpipe  sings  i'  the  nose,  cannot  contain  their  urine  for 
affection."  In  this  quotation  we  see  again  the  power  of  emotional 
conditions  of  the  mind  over  the  organic  functions  ;  in  cases  of  the 
character  just  alluded  to  we  find  the  analogue  of  the  peristaltic 
action  of  the  intestinal  mucous  membrane  through  the  excitation  of 
the  sympathetic  fibrillse  which  supplies  it,  in  cases  of  fear;  or  in 
the  lachrymal  apparatus  through  the  patheticus. 

The  tormentors  of  poor  Malvolio,  in  "Twelfth  Night,"  concocted 
a  plan  by  which  they  attempted  to  make  him  believe  they  were  in 
earnest  as  to  his  lunacy ;  they  proposed  to  "  carry  his  water  to  the 
wise  woman" — a  proceeding  very  popular  in  a  certain  class  of  our 
profession  only  a  few  years  ago.  The  "urine  doctors"  do  not 
flourish  to  the  same  extent  in  this  country  as  in  days  gone  by. 
Falstaff  does  not  escape  in  this  matter  either;  "what  says  the 
doctor  to  my  water? 

Page.  He  said,  sir,  the  water  itself  was  a  good  water ;  but  for 
the  party  that  owned  it,  he  might  have  more  diseases  than  he  knew 
of."     A  sensible  and  conscientious  doctor,  for  a  wonder. 

In  "  Macbeth  "  it  is  given  out  as  a  fact  that  "  drink"  is  a  great 
provoker  of  three  things,  viz. :  •'  Nose-painting,  sleep  and  urine." 
Lager  beer  for  the  latter  always.  ^ '    ■ 

As  in  the  case  of  the  liver,  so  with  the  kidneys, — the  alcoholic 
stimulants  exercise  a  very  marked  influence  over  their  functions ; 
what  may  at  first  constitute  only  an  augmented  functional  activity 
through  the  stimulating  effects  upon  the  renal  organs,  will,  in  the 
end,  if  long  continued,  lead  to  structural  change  in  the  kidney  in 
the  form  of  granular  degeneration,  or  atrophy,  or  some  other  ab- 
normal condition  which  is  a  sure  precursor  of  toxaemia,  dropsical 
effusions,  and  other  perversions  of  the  healthy  life  which  ultimate 


ORGANOLOGY.  187 

in  death;  even  the  sleep  itself  which  "drink"  promotes  is  one 
morbid  in  its  action ;  whilst  the  nose-painting  which  seems  only  a 
matter  for  sport,  to  those  who  observe  superficially,  is  a  sure  sign 
to  others  that  the  alcohol  has  commenced  its  destructive  processes 
in  the  system  in  earnest.  It  is  claimed  of  late  that  some  skilled 
artizan  has  discovered  a  process  by  which  the  illuminated  proboscis 
may  be  bleached,  and  rendered  as  good  as  new.  The  only  remedy, 
however,  known  to  physicians  is  to  "  leave  sack." 

Falstaff  even  had  to  bear  the  odium  of  being  fat  attached  to  his 
other  sins. 

Prince  Henry.  "  Here  comes  lean  Jack,  here  comes  bare  bones. 
How  long  is't  ago,  Jack,  since  thou  sawest  thy  own  knee? 

Falstaff.  My  own  knee?  when  I  was  about  thy  years,  Hal,  I  was 
not  an  eagle's  talon  in  the  waist ;  I  could  have  crept  into  any  alder- 
man's thumb-ring:  a  plague  of  sighing  and  grief!  it  blows  a  man 
up  like  a  bladder."  Then  after  a  wrangle,  in  which  much  laugh- 
able matter  occurs  between  them,  they  conclude  in  this  way: 

Falstaff.  "  The  king  himself  is  to  be  feared  as  the  lion.  Dost 
thou  think  I'll  fear  thee  as  I  fear  thy  father?  Nay,  an  I  do,  I  pray 
God,  my  girdle  break! 

Prince  Henry.  O,  if  it  should,  how  would  thy  guts  fall  about 
thy  knees!  But,  sirrah,  there's  no  room  for  faith,  truth,  nor 
honesty,  in  that  bosom  of  thine ;  it  is  filled  up  with  guts  and 
midriff." 

The  dissimilarity  in  the  mental  organization  is  on  a  par  with  that 
of  the  physical  when  we  compare  another  of  Shakespeare's  char- 
acters with  his  inimitable  Falstaff.  Reference  is  made  to  Cassius, 
whose  physique  and  mental  make  up  are  thus  placed  in  contrast 
with  that  of  Sir  John. 

Ccesar.  "  Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ;  sleek-headed 
men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights.  Yond'  Cassius  has  a  lean  and 
hungry  look  ;  he  thinks  too  much :  such  men  are  dangerous.  Would 
he  were  fatter ;  but  I  fear  him  not ;  yet  if  my  name  were  liable  to 
fear,  I  don't  know  the  man  that  I  should  avoid  as  soon  as  that  spare 
Cassius.  He  reads  much  ;  he  loves  no  plays,  he  hears  no  music, 
seldom  smiles,  and  when  he  does,  he  smiles  in  such  a  sort  as  if  he 
mock'd  himself,  and  scorn'd  his  spirit  that  could  be  moved  to  smile 
at  anything."  Falstaff  would  have  been  a  man  after  Caesar's  own 
heart. 


188  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

It  is  very  clearly  perceived  and  forcibly  illustrated  in  the  fore- 
going selection  that  Shakespeare  had  observed  the  fact  that  ali- 
mentive  and  intellectual  capacity  are  not  likely  to  be  twins — or,  in 
other  words,  to  reside  in  the  same  person.  Stomach  work  and  brain 
work  are  not  generally  compatible,  from  physiological  reasons  as 
given  in  a  former  chapter. 

"And  make  each  petty  artery  in  his  body,  as  hardy  as  the 
Numean  lion's  nerve." — Hamlet.  "  My  veins  are  chill,  and  have 
no  more  of  life,  than  may  suffice  to  give  my  tongue  that  heat  to  ask 
your  help."  A  case  of  extreme  debility  in  the  person  of  Pericles. 
Veins  and  their  contents  are  noticed  in  "A  Winter's  Tale,"  and  "As 
fire  cools  fire  within  the  scorched  veins  of  one  new  burn'd  "  in  "King 
John ;  "  whilst  another  passage  in  the  same  reads  "  or  if  that  surly 
spirit,  melancholy,  had  bak'd  thy  blood,  and  made  it  heavy,  thick, 
which  else  runs  trickling  up  and  down  the  veins." 

In  the  first  of  these  quotations  from  "John,"  it  is  evident  that  it 
had  a  deep  hold  upon  the  popular  mind ;  as  we  see  ninety  nine  out 
of  a  hundred  common  people,  even  now,  hold  to  and  act  upon  the 
notion  that  exposing  a  fresh  burn  to  the  fire  afterward  will  "draw 
the  fire  out."  The  process  of  roasting  the  victim  of  a  coal  oil 
explosion  slowly  before  a  red-hot  stove  as  a  healing  process  has  no 
good  grounds  in  the  philosophy  of  therapeutics  ;  we  might  well 
C(^mmit  a  parody  and  exclaim  O  Science,  O  Medicine,  what  barbari- 
ties are  enacted  in  thy  name ! 

In  "King  John"  we  also  find  a  line  which  reads  thus:  "That 
whiles  warm  life  plays  in  that  infant's  veins  " — only  an  idea  in  veri- 
fication of  the  old  scripture — "  the  blood  is  the  life  thereof." 

Falstaff,  after  marching  up  and  throwing  down  the  body  of  the 
dead  Percy,  claiming  that  he  had  slain  him,  whilst  pleasantly  con- 
templating his  chances  of  growing  renowned  over  his  feat,  talks 
thus  to  himself : 

"  He  that  rewards  me,  God  reward  him ;  if  I  do  grow  great,  I'll 
grow  less ;  for  I'll  purge  and  leave  sack,  and  live  cleanly,  as  a 
nobleman  should." 

Poor  Sir  John,  the  grounds  upon  which  he  built  his  good  resolves 
proved  as  fallacious  as  the  mirage  of  the  desert ;  but  the  resolve 
alone  teaches  us  to  remember  the  fact  that  man  always  rises  with 
his  condition  ;  place  a  boor  on  a  seat  of  rosewood  and  he  will  think 
twice  before  cutting  it,  or  place  him  in  a  room  with  Brussels  carpets, 
and  he  will  scarcely  eject  his  saliva. 


ORGANOLOGY.  189 

As  to  curtailing  his  obesity  by  purging,  it  was  of  doubtful  pro- 
priety, but  the  resolve  to  leave  off  sack  and  live  cleanly  were  the 
very  essence  of  philosophy.  The  fat  in  his  system  represented  the 
hydro-carbon  that  should  have  been  consumed  in  the  respiratory 
process ;  but  the  system  being  always  supplied  with  an  abundance 
of  that  material  in  the  sack,  the  respiratory  fires  were  kept  burning 
with  that  fuel,  and  the  fat  was  laid  by  for  a  rainy  day,  or  for  a 
period  of  hybernation  as  it  were.  So  of  the  cleanliness :  remove 
the  dirt  from  the  surface,  and  oxydation  of  the  superfluous  tissues 
will  be  hastened. 

The  subject  of  fever  is  a  little  too  general  to  come  appropriately 
under  the  present  head ;  but  as  there  seems  no  more  convenient 
place  for  the  little  that  is  named  of  the  subject,  I  shall  introduce  it 
here  nevertheless.  I  quote  two  or  three  lines  from  "  Love's  Labor 
Lost:" 

Dumaine.  "I  would  forget  her,  but  a  fever  she  reigns  in  my 
blood,  and  will  remember'd  be. 

Biron.  (Aside.)  A  fever  in  your  blood?  why,  then,  incision 
would  let  her  out  in  saucers,"  (evidently  refering  to  the  custom  of 
venesection), — whilst  we  find  in  "  King  John  "  some  lines  reading 
thus:  "This  fever  that  hath  troubled  me  so  long,  lies  heavy  on 
me,"  and  "  ah  me!  this  tyrant  fever  burns  me  up  ;"  "  entreat  the 
north  to  make  his  bleak  winds  kiss  my  parched  lips,  and  comfort 
me  with  cold."  These  words  were  quoted  before  in  the  chapter  on 
etiology,  and  their  causation  and  pathological  significance  placed  to 
the  action  of  malaria,  instead  of  "poison  tasted  to  him  by  a  monk." 
We  also  find  the  idea,  as  expressed  in  the  words  of  Biron,  embodied 
in  a  conversation  between  the  Archbishop  of  York  and  the  Earl  of 
"Westmoreland,  in  "  Henry  the  Fourth;"  and,  though  only  used  in 
an  allegorical  sense,  yet  it  conveys  a  good  notion  of  the  practice  of 
the  times. 

Arclibisliop.  "  We  are  all  diseas'd  ;  and  with  our  surfeiting,  and 
wanton  hours,  have  brought  ourselves  into  a  burning  fever,  and  we 
must  bleed  for  it;  of  which  disease,  our  late  king,  Richard,  being 
infected,  died," 

The  condition  of  the  circulation  in  fever  is  noted  in  "  Troilus 
and  Cressida,"  as  appears  in  the  following: 

Pandarus.  (Speaking  of  Cressida.)  "She's  making  her  ready. 
She'll  come  straight:  you  must  be  witty  now.     She  does  so  blush, 


190  SHAKESPEARE   AS   A   PHYSICIAN. 

and  fetches  her  wind  so  short,  as  if  she  was  frayed  with  a  sprite : 
I'll  fetch  her.  It  is  the  prettiest  villain:  she  fetches  her  breath  so 
short  as  a  new-tak'n  sparrow.     (Ex.  Pandarus.) 

Troilus.  Even  such  a  passion  doth  embrace  my  bosom :  my 
heart  beats  thicker  than  a  feverous  pulse,  and  all  my  powers  do 
their  bestowing  lose." 

The  foregoing  is  a  very  fair  pen-picture  of  the  excitement  inci- 
dent to  venereal  anticipation  in  the  modest  young  man.  This  from 
old  Timon,  is  after  his  usual  style:  "  Go,  suck  the  subtle  blood  of 
the  grape,  till  the  high  fever  seethe  your  blood  to  froth,  and  so 
'scape  hanging:  trust  not  the  physician;  his  antidotes  are  poison, 
and  he  slays  more  than  you  rob,"  whilst  may  be  mentioned  again 
the  charge  against  Caesar:  "  He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain, 
and,  when  the  fit  was  on  him,  I  did  mark  how  he  did  shake." 
"Hectic,"  is  used  in  "Hamlet,"  In  "Love's  Labor  Lost"  we 
have  a  precedent  for  "  open  air  "  exercises  held  now  as  so  essential 
for  health.  "So  it  is,  besieged  with  sable-coloured  melancholy, 
I  did  commend  the  black-oppressing  hour  to  the  most  wholesome 
physic  of  the  health  giving  air ;  and,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  betook 
myself  to  walk.  The  time  when?  About  the  sixth  hour;  when 
beasts  "most  graze,  birds  best  peck,  and  men  sit  down  to  that 
nourishment  called  supper.  So  much  for  the  time  when.  Now  for 
the  ground  which  ;  which,  I  mean,  I  walk'd  upon;  it  is  ycleped  the 
park.  Then  for  the  place  where ;  where,  I  mean,  I  did  encounter 
that  obscene  and  most  preposterous  event,  that  draweth  from  my 
snow-white  pen  the  ebon-coloured  ink,  which  here  thou  viewest, 
beholdest,  survey  est  or  seest,"  So  much  for  the  exhilaration  of  an 
evening's  walk. 

In  "The  Winter's  Tale,"  Leontes  says:  "The  blessed  gods 
purge  all  infection  from  our  air,  whilst  you  do  climate  here," 
whilst  we  see  in  "King  John"  the  faith  in  good  air:  "His  high- 
ness yet  doth  speak ;  and  holds  belief,  that  being  brought  into  the 
open  air,  it  would  allay  the  burning  quality  of  that  fell  poison,"  etc. 

The  horrors  of  pestilential  vapors  are  thus  presented : 

"A  many  of  your  bodies  shall,  no  doubt,  find  native  graves, 
upon  the  which,  I  trust,  shall  witness  live  in  brass  of  this  day's 
work  ;  and  those  that  leave  their  valiant  bones  in  France,  dying 
like  men,  though  buried  in  yon  dunghills,  they  shall  be  fam'd ;  for 
there  the  sun  shall  greet  them,  and  draw  their  horrors  up  to  heaven. 


ORGANOLOGY.  191 

leaving  their  earthly  parts  to  choke  your  clime,  the  smell  whereof 
shall  breed  a  pestilence  in  France,"  whilst  the  hurtful  influence  of 
air  to  an  early  wound  is  thus  stated:  "  The  air  hath  got  into  my 
deadly  wounds,  and  much  effuse  of  blood  doth  make  me  faint." — 
"Henry  the  Sixth,"  A.  ii.,  S.  vi. 

The  deleterious  effects  of  the  local  action  of  even  pure  air  upon 
open  wounds  is  clearly  recognized  even  now.  Filter  it — removing 
all  germs  and  mechanical  irritants,  and  yet  the  oxygen  or  some 
other  constituent  admitted  with  it  will  cause  the  wound  to  progress 
in  a  manner  different  from  one  hermetically  closed. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


CHIRURGERY. 


Grows  stronger  for  the  breaking — Mistaken  principle — Patching  the  over- 
coat— Bad  practice — Syncope— Mistakes  in  prognosis — Spare  the  blood — 
Shakespeare  a  poor  surgeon — A  scar  covered  veteran — The  money  changer — 
The  surgeon's  fee — Professional  failing — Doctors  and  the  clergy — A  man 
with  a  soul — The  surgeon's  tools— Surgeon's  fort — Honors  to  whom  honor, 
etc. — Trichina  spiralis — Who  is  responsible?— Doctors  and  their  doings — 
Little  change — Cowardly  knave — Jester  for  an  hospital — The  least  merit — 
A  precedent  for  doctor  "she" — "Malignant  fistulse  " — Potent  remedy — 
Popular  ignoranse — The  reformed  hod-carrier— Professional  honor — Another 
comparison — A  lame  impostor  and  his  lame  detection — Doctor's  untimely 
end — The  English  Nero — Dr.  Butts,  the  scoundrel — A  want  of  faith — Woful 
mistake — Danger  of  expectancy— In  Macbeth — An  absurd  credulity — God 
Almighty  as  a  visiting  physician— How  does  your  patient,  doctor? — Needs  a 
divine — No  mean  psychologist — Indiscreet — A  self- constituted  doctor. 

There  will  be  united  in  the  present  chapter  all  the  matter  pertain- 
ing to  the  specialty  of  Surgery, — the  surgeon,  therapeutics,  and  the 
physician  ;  at  the  same  time  taking  care  to  keep  the  specific  material 
of  each  as  distinct  from  the  other  as  possible. 

It  is  asserted  in  the  second  part  of  "Henry  the  Fourth"  that  a 
"broken  limb  united,  grows  stronger  for  the  breaking;"  and  in 
the  same  "  thou  hast  drawn  my  shoulder  out  of  joint." 

Now  the  first  of  these  propositions  is  perhaps  predicated  upon 
the  assumption  that  because  the  deposition  of  bony  material  at  the 
site  of  fracture  is  usually  more  voluminous  than  the  original  nor- 
mal bone,  the  strength  of  the  new  structure  will  be  greater  also. 
This  conclusion  is  opposed  to  the  principles  of  repair  not  only  in 
histogenetic  operations,  but  also  in  the  ordinary  physical  and  me- 
chanical appliances.  This  principle,  in  its  application  to  living 
tissues,  used  to  be  fairly  illustrated  by  the  late  Prof.  Linton,  of 
St.  Louis,  in  this  way:  "  The  neoplasms  are  all  formed  of  materials 
of  a  less  perfect  vitality  than  the  normal  original  tissue  of  the  part 

192 


CHIRURGERY.  193 

where  they  may  chance  to  be  located  ; — that  in  cicatricial  tissue  in 
particular  is  this  so  marked,  that  he  could  illustrate  the  difference 
in  no  better  way  than  to  liken  it  to  patching  your  over-coat  with  a 
bit  of  your  cotton  shirt."  This  principle  holds  good  with  the 
osseous  as  well  as  all  other  tissues,  and  demonstrates  conclusively 
that  we  have  caught  Shakespeare  in  one  error  at  least.  When  once 
we  have  a  broken  femur,  we  may,  under  the  most  favorable  circum- 
stances, never  hope  to  have  it  "  just  as  good  as  new ;"  or,  "just 
as  good  as  old  ' '  rather. 

In  "  As  You  Like  It"  we  find  the  following:  "And  here,  upon 
his  arm,  the  lioness  had  torn  some  flesh  away,  which  all  this  while 
had  bled ;  and  now  he  fainted,  and  cried  in  fainting  upon  Rosalind. 
Brief,  I  recover' d  him,  bound  up  his  wound,"  etc.  Shakespeare 
here  observed  the  caution  to  not  make  a  patient  dangerous  as  to 
hemorrhage  from  a  lacerated  wound ;  though  he  lets  him  bleed 
enough  to  make  him  fall  into  a  syncope  ;  the  damage,  however,  was 
not  lasting,  as  we  are  assured  that  Orlando  was  again  soon  "  strong 
of  heart."  In  "Henry  the  Fourth"  occurs  another  passage  in 
regard  to  a  swoon  into  which  the  king  had  fallen. 

Somerset.  "  Rear  up  his  body  ;  wring  him  by  the  nose."  TMl 
teaching  as  to  changing  a  person  to  an  upright  or  semi-upright 
position  in  a  common  syncope  is  averse  to  the  very  law  and  re- 
source of  nature, — the  falling  into  a  horizontal  position  being  the, 
very  means  adopted  by  unassisted  nature  to  restore  such  cases. 
As  to  the  "  wringing  by  the  nose"  to  revivify  a  fainting  patient, 
that  method  was  never  any  part  of  nature's  plan,  but  is  doubtless  the 
offspring  of  some  miserable  botch.  The  loss  of  blood  is  also  re- 
cognized as  a  source  of  syncope  in  the  case  of  Clifford  where  he 
tells  us  that  "  much  effuse  of  blood  doth  make  me  faint."  We  have 
another  failure  in  Shakespeare  to  sufficiently  weigh  surgical  princi- 
ples, in  the  fact  that  he  did  not  discriminate  between  lesions  of  a 
serious  nature  and  those  which  are  comparatively  unimportant : — 
thus,  he  makes  the  loss  of  an  eye  and  part  of  the  cheek  as  very  early 
fatal  in  the  case  of  Salisbury  in  "  Henry  the  Fourth  ;"  he  makes  the 
case  as  speedily  fatal  as  would  be  a  wound  of  a  vital  organ — as  the 
lung,  liver,  kidney,  etc.,  whilst  another  error  is  in  the  words — "the 
blood  I  drop,  is  rather  physical  than  dangerous  to  me" — found  in 
Coriolanus.  It  is  axiomatic  in  all  surgical  practice  that  the  less 
blood  we  have  from  a  traumatism  or  following  the  use  of  the  sur- 
geon's knife,  the  better  for  the  patient.     The  same  rule   holds  true 


194  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

in  obstetric  practice,  as  it  is  a  truisra  that  the  most  dangerous  cases 
of  metritis  and  other  complications  arising  to  post  parturient  pa- 
tients in  my  hands  have  followed  usually  in  cases  preceded  by  pro- 
fuse hemorrhage. 

The  grave  apprehensions  entertained  for  the  safety  of  a  patient 
with  fractured  ribs,  as  seen  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  would  also  add 
weight  to  the  conclusion  that  tho'  Shakespeare  was  good  at  most 
all  things  else,  he  was  sadly  deficient  as  a  writer  upon  surgical  sci- 
ence. There  is  a  notice  of  a  character  having  had  his  "  shoulder 
blade"  "torn  out"  in  "Winter's  Tale,"  and  in  "King  Lear"  we 
find  "  flax  and  whites  of  eggs  "  recommended  as  a  hemostatic. 
The  wound  in  "Portia's  thigh  "  has  nothing  significant  in  it,  whilst 
only  a  military  surgeon  would  be  interested  in  the  scar-covered 
veteran  Marcius  who  had  one  wound  i'  the  shoulder,  one  i'  the  left 
arm,  seven  hurts  i'  the  body,  one  i'  the  neck  and  two  i'  the  thigh, 
etc.,  making  in  all  twenty-seven.  "The  Winter's  Tale"  also  has 
"I  fear  my  shoulder  blade  is  out,"  as  a  conclusion  to  "Shakespeare 
as  a  Surgeon." 

The  term  "  surgeon"  is  used  quite  frequently.  In  "Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream  "  is  a  witticism  that  "with  the  help  of  a  surgeon  he 
(one  of  the  number  of  fops)  might  yet  recover,  and  yet  prove  an 
ass" — an  assertion  that  is  too  true  of  many,  many  of  the  surgeon's 
clients. 

In  the  case  of  Shylock,  the  Jewish  money-changer,  the  court  en- 
joined the  necessity  of  having  "  some  surgeon"  at  hand  when  he 
cut  his  "  pound  of  flesh,"  "to  stop  his  wounds,  lest  he  do  bleed  to 
death."  Shylock  failed  to  cut,  therefore  the  surgeon's  skill  was  not 
brought  into  service;  wonder  if  he  got  his  fee?  I  suspect  he  did 
not,  as  it  is  the  amount  of  physical  labor,  and  the  quantity  of  medi- 
cine administered  in  a  given  case,  which  entitles  the  practitioner  to 
2Jay  in  the  estimation  of  a  majority  of  mankind.  We  find  a  very 
good  illustration  of  the  character  of  the  cases  which  surgeons  are 
often  called  to  treat  in  the  case  of  a  riot  between  Sir  Toby  Belch, 
Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek,  and  Sebastian  in  "  Twelfth  Night,"  and 
also  a  stab  at  the  morals  of  some  of  our  "Surgeon  Dicks"  who  get 
"  tight,"  and  get  their  "  eyes  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning."  Unfor- 
tunately for  themselves  and  for  their  patrons,  it  was  the  custom, 
not  long  in  the  past,  for  many  of  the  best  minds  in  the  surgical  and 
medical  professions  to  drink  immoderately ;  but  I  am  of  the  opin- 
ion from  an  extended  observation,  that  the  "whisky    habit"    has 


CHraURGERT.  195 

grown  much  less  common  among  medical  men  during  the  last  twenty 
years. 

The  morals  of  medical  men  as  a  class,  seems  to  me  not  inferior  to 
that  of  an  equal  number  of  persons  chosen  from  any  class  in  soci- 
ety— not  even  omitting  the  clergy.  It  has  been  said:  "Show  me 
three  physicians,  and  I  will  show  you  two  sceptics,"  as  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  religious  status  of, the  profession.  This  happens,  no 
doubt,  from  the  fact  that  physicians  are  usually  men  who  do  not 
swallow  blindly  the  teachings  of  others  ;  they  think  and  reason  for 
themselves,  and  the  consequence  is  that  they  find  much  that  is  put 
forth  by  the  theoretical  propagators  of  Christianity  as  too  futile  for 
a  moment's  serious  consideration;  they  are  men  who  look  up  from 
nature  to  nature's  God,  and  worship  accordingly.  If  you  want  a 
man  with  a  soul  go  to  the  ranks  of  the  true  physician,  and  you  will 
be  sure  to  find  him. 

"Surgeon's  box"  is  mentioned  in  "  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  and 
"  fetch  a  surgeon  "  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  in  the  case  of  Mer- 
cutio. 

Borneo.  "  Courage,  man,  the  hurt  cannot  be  much.  ^ 

Mercutio.  No,  'tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide  as   a  church 

door,  but  'tis  enough ;  'twill  serve :  ask  for  me  to-morrow,  and   you 

will  find  me  a  grave  man." 

Now  in  reference  to  the  "surgeon's  box,"  we  suppose  that  the 
case  in  which  surgeons  keep  their  "tools" — (to use  the  unmistaka- 
ble language  of  a  young  medical  gentleman  of  our  acquaintance)  is 
meant ;  whilst  "  go  get  him  surgeon,"  is  the  language  of  Duncan  in 
behalf  of  a  wounded  soldier. 

"Let  me  have  a  surgeon,  I  am  cut  to  the  brain,"  was  the  request 
of  old  King  Lear  in  one  of  his  fantasies  ;  and  lago,  that  impersona- 
tion of  the  sum  of  all  villainies,  proffered  to  "  fetch  a  surgeon"  for 
Rodrigo,  who  had  been  set  upon  by  his  own  hired  assassins. 

It  is  apparent  that  the  practice  of  surgery  was  even  at  that  early 
day  looked  upon  with  much  more  respect  than  the  practice  of  med- 
icine ;  thus  it  is  to-day,  and  thus  it  will  ever  be. 

There  is  one  very  obvious  cause  for  this,  and  one  which  all  may 
and  do  more  or  less  observe — and  that  is  the  surgeon's  work  is  al- 
ways tangible  to  the  naked  eye  of  the  populace,  no  comprehensive 
thinking  or  philosophizing  being  brought  into  requisition  for  the 
recognition  of  the  surgeon's  power;   whilst  the  intricacies   which 


■— 1 


196  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

the  doctor  proper  has  to  meet  and  overcome  are  far  beyond  the  scru- 
tiny of  the  ordinary  observer.  Whilst,  really,  the  surgeon  is  only 
an  ordinary  mechanic  in  many  instances,  and  the  physician  a  deep 
and  genuine  philosopher,  the  one  carries  the  palm  amongst  a 
thoughtless  community,  whilst  the  other  is  set  down  as  an  old  fogy. 
It  seems,  too,  that  the  profession  is  half  inclined  to  honor  the  sur- 
geon more  than  the  physician,  and  it  may  be  that  it  is  from  the  fact 
that  the  peculiarities  of  the  science  and  art  of  surgery  proper  are 
not  cursed  with  the  multitudes  of  parasites  to  which  the  practice  of 
medicine  is  exposed — the  practice  of  medicine,  owing  to  the  advan- 
tages which  may  be  taken  of  it,  having  to  bear  the  odium  of  a  million 
professional  (?)  leeches  sucking  at  its  integrity.  The  great  profession 
legitimate  medicine,  reminds  me  of  a  strong  man  who  partakes  of 
an  underdone  pork  steak,  and  in  process  of  time  becomes  afflicted, 
heart,  brain  and  all,  with  trichina  spiralis.  Quackery  is  every- 
where ;  it  pervades  the  high  places  as  well  as  the  low,  flourishes  in 
the  palace  of  the  rich  as  well  as  in  the  hovel  of  the  poor,  and  is  so 
fastened  upon  and  rooted  into  the  profession  and  society  that  there  is 
no  feasible  way  in  which  to  get  rid  of  the  evil.  The  profession  it- 
self is  in  some  degree  responsible  for  this ;  but  in  the  mean  it  is  due 
to  the  willful  ignorance  of  the  populace.  Our  American  people  will 
be  humbugged,  and  the  pretenders  in  medicine  make  them  pay 
dearly  for  their  willing  pliability. 

As  Part  II.  of  Chapter  VIII.,  we  design  adding  what  we  have 
upon  the  subject  of  "Doctors  and  their  doings ;"  and,  though  con- 
stituting the  bulk  of  the  chapter,  we  hope  it  may  not  prove  less 
interesting  on  that  ground.  Of  materials  we  have  an  assortment : 
we  have  the  "regular"  and  the  "mountebank," — doctor  "she" 
and  the  "  tooth-slinger,"  each  in  his  sphere;  little  observable 
change  in  the  quantity  or  quality  of  the  "goods"  in  three  hun- 
dred years. 

The  renowned  "French  physician" — Doctor  Caius,  whose  mis- 
understanding with  Sir  Hugh  Evans  is  so  well  described  in  the 
"  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  is  a  true  representative  of  the  adver- 
tising fraternity  of  this  day ;  and  when  Sir  Hugh  avowed  that  his 
antagonist  had  "no  more  knowledge  of  Hibbocrates  and  Galen, — 
and  he  is  a  knave  besides; — a  cowardly  knave,"  he  no  doubt  hit 
upon  the  exact  truth. 


CHIRUKGERY.  197 

We  find  a  strange  bargain  as  to  service  in  an  hospital  in  "  Love's 
Labor  Lost,"  in  the  matter  of  the  courtship  between  Rosaline  and 
Biron : 

Rosaline.  "If  you  my  favor  mean  to  get,  a  twelvemonth  shall 
you  spend,  and  never  rest,  but  seek  the  weary  beds  of  people  sick. 

Biron.  Studies,  my  lady?  Mistress,  look  on  me:  behold  the 
window  of  my  heart,  mine  eye,  what  humble  suit  attends  the  answer 
there  ;  impose  some  service  on  me  for  thy  love. 

Rosaline.  Oft  have  I  heard  of  you,  my  lord  Biron,  before  I  saw 
you,  and  the  world  proclaims  you  replete  with  mocks^  comparisons, 
and  wounding  flouts,  which  you  on  all  estates  will  exercise,  that  lie 
within  the  mercy  of  your  wit :  to  weed  this  wormwood  from  your 
fruitful  brain,  and,  therewithal,  to  win  me,  if  you  please,  without 
the  which  I  am  not  to  be  won,  you  shall  this  twelvemonth  term, 
from  day  to  day,  visit  the  speechless  sick,  and  still  converse  with 
groaning  wretches ;  and  your  task  shall  be,  with  all  the  fierce  en- 
deavor of  your  wit,  to  force  the  pained  impotent  to  smile. 

Biron.  To  move  wild  laughter  in  the  throat  of  death?  it  cannot 
be ;  it  is  impossible :  mirth  cannot  move  a  soul  in  agony. 

Rosaline.  Why,  that's  the  way  to  choke  a  gibing  spirit,  whose 
influence  is  begot  of  that  loose  grace,  which  shallow  laughing 
hearers  give  to  fools.  A  jest's  prosperity  lies  in  the  ears  of  him 
that  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue  of  him  that  makes  it:  then  if 
sickly  ears,  deaf'd  with  the  clamours  of  their  own  dire  groans,  will 
hear  your  idle  scorns,  continue  there,  and  I  will  have  you,  and  that 
fault  withal ;  but,  if  they  will  not,  throw  away  that  spirit,  and  I 
shall  find  you  empty  of  that  fault,  right  joyfully  of  your  re- 
formation. 


198 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


"  I'll  jest  a  twelvemonth  In  an  hospital." 

Biron.  A  twelvemonth  ?  well,  befall  what  will  befall,  I'll  jest  a 
twelvemonth  in  an  hospital." 

It  appears  to  me  that  there  is  less  merit — less  applicability,  less 
pretext  for  the  above  quoted  matter,  and  that  the  occasion  was  less 
appropriate  for  the  exercise  of  such  a  train  of  thought,  than  is  to 
be  found  in  connection  with  almost  any  single  passage  or  reflection 
in  the  entire  writings  of  Shakespeare.  The  only  merit  I  am  able  to 
discover  in  it  is  the  originality  of  the  idea  of  employing  a  "  jester  " 
to  an  hospital ;  the  idea  being  new,  whether  its  application  would 
be  of  value  or  not.  It  is  not  every  day  that  we  stumble  on  original 
thought  even  of  doubtful  merit,  and  we  will  prize  this  accordingly. 

The  champions  of  female  physicians  may  find  a  precedent  for 
their  doctrines  in  "All's  Well  That  Ends  Well,"  in  the  case  of 
Lady  Helena,  who  ministered  to  the  king  successfully. 

The  old  lord,  Lafeu,  in  a  conversation  with  the  Countess  of 
Rousillon,  in  answer  to  the"enquiries  as  to  the  health  of  the  king, 
remarked — "He  hath  abandoned  his  physicians,  madam;  under 
whose  practice  he  hath  persecuted  time  with  hope,  and  finds  no 
other  advantage  in  the  process,  but  only  the  losing  of  hope  by 
time. 


CHIRURGERY.  199 

Countess.  "This  young  gentlewoman  (meaning  Helena,  her  ward) 
had  a  father, — O,  that  had !  how  sad  a  passage  'tis, — whose  skill, 
almost  as  great  as  his  honesty,  had  it  stretch' d  so  far,  would  have 
made  nature  immortal,  and  death  should  have  played  for  lack  of 
work.  Would,  for  the  king's  sake,  he  were  living!  I  think  it 
would  be  the  death  of  the  king's  disease.  He  was  famous,  sir,  in 
his  profession. 

Lafeu.  He  was  excellent,  indeed,  madam :  the  king  very  lately 
spake  of  him,  admiringl}^  and  mourningly ;  he  was  skilled  enough 
to  have  lived  still,  if  knowledge  could  be  set  up  against  mortality. 

Bertram.     What  is  it  my  good  lord,  the  king,  languisheth  of? 

Lafeu.     A  fistula,  my  lord." 

King.  (Another  Scene.)  "  How  long  is  it,  count,  since  the 
physician  at  your  father's  died?     He  was  much  fam'd. 

Bertram.     Some  six  months  since,  my  lord. 

King.  If  he  were  living,  I  would  try  him  yet: — lend  me  an 
arm  ; — the  rest  have  worn  me  out  with  several  applications :  nature 
and  sickness  debate  at  their  leisure." 

Then  follows  a  lengthy  conversation  on  other  matters,  and  then 
the  king's  malady  is  again  brought  up : 

Lafeu.  "I  have  seen  a  medicine  that  is  able  to  breathe  life  into 
a  stone,  quicken  a  rock,  and  make  you  dance  canary  with  spritely 
fire  and  motion ;  whose  simple  touch  is  powerful  to  upraise  King 
Pepin,  nay,  to  give  great  Charlemain  a  pen  in's  hand,  to  write  to 
her  a  love  line. 

King.     What  her  is  this  ? 

Lafeu.  Why,  doctor  she.  My  lord,  there's  one  arriv'd,  if  you 
will  see  her: — now,  by  my  faith  and  honor,  if  seriously  I  may  con- 
vey my  thoughts  in  this  my  light  deliverance,  I  have  spoke  with 
one,  that  in  her  sex,  her  years,  profession,  wisdom,  and  constancy, 
hath  amaz'd  me  more  than  I  dare  blame  my  weakness.  Will  you 
see  her  (for  that  is  her  demand),  and  know  her  business?  That 
done,  laugh  well  at  me. 

King.  Now,  good  Lafeu,  bring  in  the  admiration,  that  we  with 
thee  may  spend  our  wonder  too,  or  take  off  thine  by  wond'ring  how 
thou  took'st  Id." 

Lafeu  then  brings  in  Helena,  and  remarks — "  This  is  his  majesty  ; 
say  your  mind  to  him :   a  traitor  you  do  look  like ;   but  such  traitors 


200 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


his  majesty  seldom  fears.  I  am  Cressida's  uncle,  that  dare  leave 
two  together.     Fare  you  well. 

King.     Now,  fair  one,  does  your  business  follow  us } 

Helena.  Ay,  my  good  lord.  Gerard  de  Narbon  was  my  father ; 
in  what  he  did  profess  well  found. 

King.     I  knew  him. 

Helena.  The  rather  will  I  spare  my  praises  towards  him  ;  know- 
ing him  is  enough.  On  's  bed  of  death  many  receipts  he  gave  me  ; 
chiefly  one  which,  as  the  dearest  issue  of  his  practice,  and  of  his 
old  experience  the  only  darling,  he  bade  me  store  up  as  a  triple 
eye,  safer  than  mine  own  two,  more  dear.  I  have  so :  and  hearing 
your  high  majesty  is  touch'd  with  that  malignant  cause,  wherein  the 
honor  of  my  dear  father's  gift  stands  chief  in  power,  I  came  to  ten- 
der it,  and  my  appliance,  with  all  bound  humbleness. 


"  Helena  and  the  King.* 


CHIRURGERT.  201 

King.  AVe  thank  you,  maiden,  but  may  not  be  so  credulous  of 
cure:  when  our  most  learned  doctors  leave  us,  and  the  congregated 
college  have  concluded  that  labouring  art  can  never  ransom  nature 
from  her  inaidable  estate,  I  say,  we  must  not  so  stain  our  judgment, 
or  corrupt  our  hope,  to  prostitute  our  past-cure  malady  to  empirics ; 
or  to  dissever 

Our  great  self  and  our  credit,  to  esteem 
A  senseless  help,  when  help  past  sense  we  deem. 
Helena.  My  duty  then  shall  pay  me  for  my  pains :    I  will  no  more 
enfore  my  office  on  you  ;  humbly  entreating  from  your  royal  thoughts 
a  modest  one,  to  bear  me  back  again. 

King.    I  cannot  give    thee   less   to   be   called   grateful. 
Thou  thought'st  to  help  me,  and  such  thanks  I  give 
As  one   near  death  to  those  that  wish  him  live  ; 
But  what  at  full  I  know,  thou  knowest  no  part, 
I  know  all  my  peril,  thou  no  art. 
Helena. 

What  I  can  do  can  do  no  hurt  to  try, 
Since  you  set  up  your  rest  'gainst  remedy. 
He  that  of  greatest  works  is  finisher 
Oft  does  them  by  the  weakest  minister. 
King. 

I  must  not  hear  thee  ;    fare  thee  well,  kind  maid. 
Thy  pains  not  used,  must  by  thy  self  be  paid  : 
Proffers,  not  took,  reap  thanks  for  their  reward. 
Helena. 

Dear  sir,  to  my  endeavors  give  consent ; 
Of  heaven,  not  me,  make  an  experiment. 
I  am  not  an  impostor,  that  proclaim 
Myself  against  the  level  of  mine  aim  ; 
But  know  I  think,  and  think  I  know  most  sure. 
My  art  is  not  past  power,  nor  you  past  cure. 
King.  Art  thou  so  confident?     Within  what  space  hop'st  thou   my 
cure? 

Helena.      The  greatest  grace  lending  grace. 

Ere  twice  the  horses  of  the  sun  shall  bring 
Their  fiery  torcher  his  diurnal  ring ; 
Ere  twice  in  murk  and  occidental  damp 
Moist  Hesperus  hath  quench' d  his  sleepy  lamp ; 


202  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

Ere  four  and  twenty  times  the  pilot's  glass 
Hath  told  the  thievish  minutes  how  they  pass, 
What  is  infirm  from  your  sound  parts  shall  fly, 
Health  shall  live  free,  and  sickness  freely  die. 

King.  Upon  thy  certainty  and  confidence,  what  dar'st  thou  ven- 
ture? 

Helena.  Tax  of  impudence,   a  strumpet's  boldness,  a  divulged 
shame,  traduced  by  odious  ballads  ;  my  maiden's  name 
Seared  otherwise ;  the  worst  of  worst  extended, 
With  vilest  torture  let  my  life  be  ended. 

King. 

Methinks,  in  thee  some  blessed  spirit  doth  speak, 
His  powerful  sound  in  this,  an  organ  weak ; 
Sweet  practiser,  thy  physic  I  will  try. 
That  ministers  thine  own  death,  if  I  die." 

We  see  in  the  above  quotation  but  a  reflection  of  the  ideas  of  the 
ignorant  masses  from  that  day  to  the  present ;  the  matter  is  only  the 
nations  of  to-day  presented  in  their  most  feeble  aspect.  Ninety-nine 
hundredths  of  the  people  of  this  March,  1884,  would  quit  the  "most 
learned  doctors,  and  congregated  college,"  and  run  wild  after  some 
"  Indian  doctor,"  the  which  is  only  another  name  for  some  reformed 
hod-carrier.  Even  "  kings  and  potentates,"  and  others  whose  com- 
mon sense  ought  to  be  a  guarantee  of  better  actions,  trust  the  lives 
of  their  children — sometimes  themselves,  to  the  medical  care  of  some 
creature  having  less  skill  than  a  boot-black. 

Our  lady  friends  who  are  ambitious  to  become  specialists  in  the 
department  of  "  malignant  fistulae  "  may  in  the  foregoing  case 
find  an  ancient  and  honorable  precedent. 

Apropos  of  the  cure  of  fistulas,  it  was  the  fortune — good  or  bad — 
of  this  city,  a  few  years  ago,  to  be  visited  by  an  old  and  impudent 
negro,  who  called  himself  Dr.  Sunrise.  He  made  a  specialty  of 
treating  "fistulae."  He  '■'■pulled  them  out!"  and  never  failed  of  a 
cure.  He  took  quarters  in  a  hovel  in  the  purlieus  of  the  city,  before 
the  door  of  which  might  be  seen  any  day  the  carriages  of  the  wealthy, 

\ 


CHIKURGERY. 


203 


"  Dr.  Sunrise  "  in  St.  Joseph. 

while  the  common  people  thronged  the  streets,  all  seeking  to  be 
healed.  He  would  not  receive  his  pay  in  a  check  on  a  city  bank — he 
had  no  time  to  spare  in  running  to  the  bank  for  his  fee !  It  must  be 
jjaid,  cash  in  hand,  or  no  treatment  did  he  mete  out!  $3,000,  it  was 
said,  rewarded  his  three  weeks'  scattering  of  handbills  and  flippant 
arrogance.  The  profession  of  this  era  is  certainly  cursed  to  the  very 
full  with  this  kind  of  stuff,  but  medical  men  may  console  them- 
selves (when  reading  the  foregoing)  by  remembering  that  this  is  not 
the  only  age  and  generation  that  has  been  cursed  with  the  incubus. 

In  "  Richard  the  Second  "  we  find  an  appeal  to  God  to  put  it  into 
a  physician's  mind  to  help  his  patient  to  his  grave  immediately. 

It  is  somewhat  singular  that  among  the  multitude  of  villainies  we 
constantly  see  or  read  of,  it  is  one  of  the  rarest  to  hear  of  a  physician 
abusing  the  confidence  of  his  patients.  A  physician's  purposely 
murdering  his  patient  is  one  of  the  rarest  of  crimes.  There  have 
been  two  cases  in  the  United  States  within  my  recollection  where  this 
crime  has  been  charged  upon  physicians,  but  fortunately  for  the 
honor  of  the  profession,  and  the  ends  of  justice  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
both  parties  were  acquitted  of  the  charge ;  I  allude  to  the  case  of 
Dr.  Schoeppe  in  Pennsylvania,  and  that  of  Dr.  ^Madlicott  in  Kansas ; 
the  one  for  the  murder  of  Miss  Stenick  through  motives  of  avarice, 
the  other  of  Mr.  Ruth  for  the  purpose  of  inheriting  his  widow.  These 
were  the  charges. 


204  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

The  most  debased  wretch  who  has  the  hardihood  to  enter  the 
medical  profession,  seems  to  regard  fully  the  duty  of  holding  sacred 
the  trusts  of  his  patrons  as  tenaciously  as  he  does  his  own  private 
secrets.  I  have  hardly  known  this  trust  betrayed  in  more  than  a  sin- 
gle instance.  I  have  known  but  a  single  case  where  the  morals  of  the 
family  of  any  one  have  been  directly  polluted  by  the  family  doctor.' 

Can  we  say  as  much  of  any  other  calling?  How  stands  even  the 
immaculate  clergy  upon  this  point?  This  merit  alone  in  the  physician 
should  entitle  him  to  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  all  the  world,  and 
make  him  revered  as  a  patron  of  virtue,  if  for  nothing  else.  It  is 
not  the  man,  but  the  calling,  however,  that  makes  him  what  he  is  in 
this  regard. 

"Physician"  is  mentioned  in  "Henry  the  Fourth,"  "Richard 
the  Third,"  and  in  "Henry  the  Sixth."  In  the  latter  we  find  detailed 
the  doings  of  an  impostor,  which  is  worth  transcribing : 

(Enter  one,  crying  a  miracle!  a  miracle!) 

Glocester.  "What  means  this  noise?  Fellow,  what  miracle  dost 
thou  proclaim? 

One.     A  miracle !  a  miracle ! 

Suffolk.     Come  to  the  king :  tell  him  what  miracle. 

One.  Forsooth,  a  blind  man  at  St.  Alban's  shrine,  within  this  half 
hour  hath  recover' d  his  sight ;  a  man  that  ne'er  saw  in  his  life  before. 

King  Henry.  Now,  God  be  prais'd,  that  to  believing  souls  gives 
light  in  darkness,  comfort  in  despair. 

(Enter  SimjJcox  and  his  kinsfolk.) 

Cardinal.  Here  come  the  townsmen  in  procession,  to  present  your 
highness  with  the  man. 

King.  Great  is  his  comfort  in  this  earthly  vale,  though  by  his 
sight  his  sin  be  multiplied. 

Glocester.  Bring  him  near;  his  highness'  pleasure  is  to  talk  with 
him. 

King.  Good  fellow,  tell  us  here  the  circumstance ;  has  thou  been 
long  blind,  and  now  restor'd? 

Simpcox.     Born  blind,  an't  please  your  grace. 

Wife.     Ay,  indeed  was  he. 

Suffolk.     What  woman  is  this  ? 

Wife.     His  wife,  an't  like  your  worship. 

Glocester.  Hadst  thou  been  his  mother  thou  could' st  have  better 
told. 


CHIRURGERY.  205 

King.     Wliere  wert  thou  born  ? 

Simpcox.     At  Berwick  in  the  North,  an't  like  your  grace. 

King.     Poor  soul!   God's  goodness  hath  been  great  to  thee. 

Queen.     Tell  me,  good  fellow,  earnest  thou  here  by  chance? 

Cardinal.     What!   art  thou  lame? 

Simpcox.     Ay,  God  Almighty  help  me ! 

Svffolk.     How  cam'st  thou  so? 

Simpcox.     A  fall  off  a  tree. 

Wife.     A  plum-tree,  master. 

Glocester.     How  long  hast  thou  been  blind  ? 

Simpcox.     O,  born  so,  master. 

Glocester.     What !  and  wouldst  climb  a  tree  ? 

Simpcox.     But  that  in  all  my  life,  when  I  was  a  youth. 

Wife.     Too  true  ;  and  bought  his  climbing  very  dear. 

Glocester.     'Mass,  thou  lovest  plums  well,  that  would  venture  so. 

Simpcox.  Alas,  good  master,  my  wife  desir'd  some  damsons,  and 
made  me  climb  with  danger  of  my  life. 

Glocester.  A  subtle  knave  ;  but  yet  it  shall  not  serve  ; — let  me  see 
thine  eyes: — wink  now; — now  open  them. — In  my  opinion  yet  thou 
seest  not  well. 

Simpcox.     Yes,  master,  clear  as  day ;  I  thank  God. 

Glocester.     Say 'st  thou  me  so?     What  colour  is  this  cloak  of  ? 

Simpcox.     Red,  master  ;  red  as  blood. 

Glocester.     Why,  that's  well  said.     What  colour  is  my  gown  of? 

Simpcox.     Black,  forsooth ;  coal  black  as  jet. 

King.     Why,  then,  thou  know'st  what  colour  jet  is  of? 

Suffolk.     And  yet,  I  think,  jet  did  he  never  see. 

Glocester.     But  cloaks  and  gowns  before  this  day,  a  many. 

Wife.     Never  before  this  day,  in  all  his  life. 

Glocester.     Tell  me,  sirrah,  what's  my  name? 

Simpcox.     Alas,  master,  J  know  not. 

Glocester.     What's  thine  own  name? 

Simpcox.     Saunder  Simpcox,  an't  please  you,  master. 

Glocester.  Then,  Saunder,  sit  thou  there,  thou  lyingest  knave  in 
Christendom.  If  thou  hadst  been  born  blind,  thou  might' st  as  well 
have  known  all  our  names  as  thus  to  name  the  several  colours  we  do 
wear.  Sight  may  distinguish  of  colours ;  ])ut  suddenly  to  nominate 
them  all,  it  is  impossible.  My  lords,  would  ye  not  think  his  cunning 
to  be  great,  that  could  restore  this  cripple  to  his  legs  ? 

Simpcox.     O,  master,  that  you  could!  " 


206  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN, 

Glocester  then  sends  for  a  whip  and  stool,  gives  Mr.  Simpcox  a 
good  thrashing, — he  leaps  from  the  stool  and  runs  away,  the  people 
following  and  shouting — a  miracle !  a  miracle ! 

There  was  little  show  of  erudition  or  even  good  sound  sense  in  the 
effort  to  expose  the  malingering  of  this  fellow  Simpcox ;  no  person, 
however  expert,  can  distinguish,  in  many  cases,  by  a  mere  examina- 
tion of  the  physical  appearance  of  the  eye,  whether  or  not  its  optical 
powers  are  perfect ;  and  the  plea  that  the  inability  of  Simpcox  to 
individualize  the  parties  present  by  their  several  names  was  sufficient 
to  brand  him  as  an  impostor  is  simply  ridiculous.  If  he  had  been 
afflicted  with  congenital  cataract,  and  had  that  day  been  operated 
upon  successfully,  why  then  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  say  of 
colours  which  was  red  or  which  black ;  he  might  have  acquired  the 
power  very  soon  from  a  process  of  education,  but  not  in  a  few  hours. 
The  readiness  with  which  he  recognized  colours  rendered  it  certain 
that  he  either  had  not  been  blind  at  all,  or  else  had  been  operated 
upon  at  sometime  prior  to  that  present  day.  He  had  not  been  blind 
from  birth  if  he  could  immediately  distinguish  colors — that  is  certain. 

Doctor  Shaw,  a  notorious  political  intriguer,  is  named  in  "Richard 
the  Third,"  but  not  in  connection  with  medical  matters  ;  and  Doctor 
Peace  had  held  a  place  of  trust  and  honor  in  the  government,  until 
displaced  through  the  jealousies  of  Cardinal  Wolsey.  It  is  said  that 
through  grief  at  this  misfortune,  he  ran  mad  and  died. 

In  "Henry  the  Eighth"  we  find  mention  of  one  Doctor  Butts,  the 
king's  physician; — a  man  who  seems  to  have  been  as  heartless  and 
unprincipled  as  his  bloody  master.  It  happened  that  this  self-import- 
ant doctor  did  not  like  Cranmer,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
when  this  august  functionary  was  humbled  to  the  dust  by  the  cold- 
blooded English  Nero, — Henry  the  Eighth, — this  same  Butts,  contrary 
to  the  instincts  of  the  true  physician,  triumphed  in  his  degradation, 
and  took  delight  in  making  the  fallen  prej^te  feel  it  to  the  utmost. 
He  acted  a  contemptible  part. 

Menenius,  in  "  Coriolanus,"  says: 

"It  gives  me  an  estate  of  seven  years'  health ;  in  which  time  I  will 
make  a  lip  at  the  physician :  the  most  sovereign  prescription  in  Galen 
is  but  empiric  physic,  and  to  this  preservative,  no  better  than  a  horse- 
drench,"  thus  giving  little  credit  to  the  powers  of  medicine. 

The  notion  prevails  among  a  large  portion  of  mankind,  that  the 
doctor  has  really  little  power  over  disease,  and  from  this  belief 
springs  the  patronage  which  in  most  instances  falls  into  the  hands  of 


CHIBURGERY.  207 

the  class  of  empirics  known  under  various  names,  and  outside  of 
tlie  pale  of  regular  medicine — the  idea  being  prevalent  among 
the  common  people  that  they  will  do  no  harm  if  they  do  no  good. 
If  such  reasoners  would  carry  their  arguments  a  little  further, 
they  would  surely  see  that  they  had  better  employ  no  person 
at  all,  as  one  that  is  neither  competent  for  good  nor  for  evil  is 
simply  a  nonentity,  save  in  the  matter  of  fees.  But  they  who  take 
up  the  idea  that  even  the  common  disease  of  rheumatism  is  not 
dangerous,  and  will  get  along  quite  as  well  when  not  treated  at  all, 
are  wofully  mistaken.  The  plan  was  tried  in  the  Massachusetts 
General  Hospital,  during  the  past  summer,  of  leaving  cases  of  rheu- 
matism without  active  treatment,  and  the  progress  of  the  cases  noted. 
Ten  ordinary  cases,  eight  with  first  attacks,  and  two  with  a  second 
attack — all  young  or  middle-aged  adults.  Two  died,  three  of  seven 
examined  got  heart  disease,  and  the  average  duration  of  the  disease 
was  about  six  weeks !  This  was  an  appalling  record  for  nature  as  a 
doctor,  and  shows  us,  as  definitely  as  so  few  cases  can,  the  dangers 
of  trifling  with  life. 

The  idea  of  Macbeth, — "throw  physic  to  the  dogs,  I'll  none  of  it," 
is  doctrine  of  the  same  worthless  sort.  Whilst  I  know  full  well  the 
many  abuses  cloaked  under  the  guise  of  the  healing  art, — and  certain 
as  I  am  of  the  murderous  work  it  performs  in  the  hands  of  the  igno- 
rant, yet  it  is  a  God-like  calling,  in  its  purity ;  and  separated  from  the 
evils  which  beset  it  in  the  shape  of  unworthy  pretenders,  and  there  is 
nothing  in  the  way  of  human  ministrations  productive  of  more  good 
to  the  human  race. 

In  ' '  Macbeth ' '  we  find  the  doctor  occupying  a  conspicuous  place, 
notwithstanding  his  low  estimate  of  physic.  We  find  the  old  notion 
in  regard  to  the  power  of  a  touch  of  the  royal  hand  in  curing  scrofula : 

Malcolm.     "  Well ;  more  anon. — Comes  the  king  forth,  I  pray  you  ? 

Doctor.  Ay,  sir ;  there  are  a  crew  of  wretched  souls,  that  stay  his 
cure :  their  malady  convinces  the  great  assay  of  heart ;  but  at  his 
touch,  such  sanctity  hath  heaven  given  his  hand,  they  presently 
amend. 

Malcolm.     I  thank  you,  doctor. 

Macduff.     What's  the  disease  he  means? 

Malcolm.  '  Tis  called  the  evil :  a  most  miraculous  work  in  this 
good  king,  which  often  since  my  here  remain  in  England,  I  have  seen 
him  do.  How  he  solicits  heaven,  himself  best  knows ;  but  strangely- 
visited  people,  all  swollen  and  ulcerous,  pitiful  to  the  eye,  the  mere 


208  SHAKESPEAKE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

despair  of  surgery,  he  cures ;  hanging  a  golden  stamp  about  their 
necks,  put  on  with  holy  prayers ;  and,  'tis  spoken,  to  the  succeeding 
royalty  he  leaves  the  benediction.  With  this  strange  virtue  he  hath  a 
heavenly  gift  of  prophecy,  and  sundry  blessings  hang  about  his 
throne,  that  speak  him  full  of  grace."  The  absurdity  of  the  idea 
that  a  "swollen  and  ulcerous"  person  affected  with  king's  evil  can 
be  cured  by  "  charms  and  incantations"  has  not  entirely  passed  from 
the  minds  of  living  generations.  I  was  reading  in  a  medical  periodi- 
cal no  longer  ago  than  yesterday  where  a  medical  gentleman  gravely 
proposed  the  setting  apart  of  a  certain  ward  in  an  hospital  into  which 
patients  of  exactly  the  same  class  as  those  in  the  other  wards  should 
be  admitted,  and  who,  in  addition  to  the  identical  treatment  given  to 
the  others,  should  receive  special  and  persistent  prayers  for  their 
recovery,  and  that  the  success  of  the  plan  be  carefully  noted.  It 
seems  to  me  that  this  plan  would  imply  the  ridiculous  idea  that  the 
patients  in  the  wards  of  our  hospitals  as  now  conducted  are  removed 
entirely  from  the  recognition  of  a  benignant  Providence,  and  that  the 
salvation  of  their  inmates  is  left  entirely  to  the  care  of  the  nurses  and 
physicians.  It  is  certainly  said  that  "the  prayers  of  the  righteous 
availeth  much,"  but  I  am  persuaded  that  they  are  not  of  sufficient 
power  in  these  latter  days  to  amputate  a  thigh,  or  supersede  the  anti- 
periodic  powers  of  quinine.  If  the  plan  proposed  by  the  good  doctor 
should  prove  a  success,  I  presume  the  practice  of  the  healing  art  would 
go  back  into  the  hands  of  the  monks  and  barbers.  The  same  doctor 
who  had  such  faith  in  the  king's  virtues  as  a  "healer"  was  called  to 
see  Lady  Macbeth  for  her  sleep-walking,  and  with  commendable  con- 
scientiousness announced  the  disease  as  "beyond  his  practice," — 
"  yet,"  says  he,  "  I  have  known  those  who  walked  in  their  sleep,  who 
have  died  holily  in  their  beds."  During  the  course  of  the  treatment 
it  was  asked  by 

Macbeth.     "  How  does  your  patient,  doctor? 

Doctor.  Not  so  sick,  my  lord,  as  she  is  troubled  with  thick-coming 
fancies  that  keep  her  from  her  rest. 

Macbeth.  Cure  her  of  that.  Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind 
diseas'd,  pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow,  raze  out  the  written 
troubles  of  the  brain,  and  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote  cleanse 
the  stuff' d  bosom  of  that  perilous  grief,  which  weighs  upon  the 
heart  ? 

Doctor.     Therein  the  patient  must  minister  unto  himself." 


CHIRURGERY.  209 

It  is  apparent  that  Macbeth  had  entertained  the  hope  that  the  pow- 
ers of  the  physician  might  avail  something  in  the  restoration  of  his 
wife's  mental  faculties,  which  had  been  so  perturbed  since  the  murder 
of  Duncan ;  and  that  it  was  only  after  the  doctor  declared  his  inability 
to  do  her  good  that  he  passionately  exclaimed — ' '  throw  physic  to  the 
dogs,  I'll  none  of  it" — a  loss  of  confidence  which  seems  to  have  had 
some  grounds  for  it,  as  in  his  extremities  he  had  hoped  much,  and 
received  no  help. 

It  is  probable  that  the  case  of  Lady  Macbeth  would  have  been 
benefitted  in  the  hands  of  many  of  our  modern  psychological  experts ; 
and  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  if  the  power  of  persistent  prayer  is 
necessary  for  the  restoration  of  the  sick.  Lady  Mac.  would  have  been 
a  fit  subject  upon  which  to  have  made  experiment ;  she  was  sick 
morally  as  well  as  mentally,  and  if  a  white  neck-cloth  and  lugubrious 
physiognomy  ever  do  good  in  the  restoration  of  suffering  humanity  it 
is  in  maladies  like  hers. 

We  find  a  metaphoric  expression  in  Hamlet  to  this  effect:  "  Your 
wisdom  should  show  itself  more  richer,  to  signify  this  to  his  doc- 
tor ;  for,  for  me  to  put  him  to  his  further  purgation,  would  per- 
haps plunge  him  into  more  choler. "  In  "  Lear ' '  we  find  a  doctor 
mixed  up  in  the  matters  considerably,  and  in  association  with  the 
treatment  of  old  Lear's  mental  alienation  proves  himself  to  be  no 
mean  psychologist ;  his  treatment  of  the  case,  as  fully  detailed  in  the 
chapter  on  pharmacologia,  testifies  to  his  ability  in  his  professional  ac- 
quirements, and  to  the  matter  as  it  is  there  stated  we  may  refer  the 
reader  again. 

True  to  his  mission  of  justice  and  mercy,  we  find  the  physician, 
Cornelius,  in  "  Cymbeline,"  thwarting  the  evil  designs  of  the  heart- 
less queen.  ' '  She  doth  think  she  has  strange  lingering  poisons :  I  do 
know  her  spirit,  and  will  not  trust  one  of  her  malice  with  a  drug  of 
such  damned  nature,"  whilst  he  comes  in  for  a  charge  of  a  lack  of 
discretion  by  Cymbeline,  for  simply  announcing  that  the  queen  was 
dead : 

Cornelius.  "Hail,  great  king!  To  sour  your  happiness,  I  must 
report  the  queen  is  dead. 

Cymbeline.  Whom  worse  than  a  physician  would  this  report  be- 
come? But  I  consider,  by  medicine  life  may  be  prolong'd,  yet  death 
will  seize  the  doctor  too." 


210  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN, 

We  find  one  of  that  numerous  and  detestable  class — self-constituted 
doctors,  making  himself  prominent  in  attending  the  shipwrecked  per- 
sons in  "  Pericles :"  "Get  fire  and  meat  for  these  poor  men ;  it  has 
been  a  turbulent  and  stormy  night.  (To  a  servant.)  Your  master 
will  be  dead  ere  you  return:  there's  nothing  can  be  minister'd  to 
nature,  that  can  recover  him.  Give  this  to  the  'pothecary,  and  tell 
me  how  it  works.  'Tis  known,  I  ever  have  studied  phj^sic,  through 
which  secret  art,  by  turning  over  authorities,  I  have  (together  with 
my  practice)  made  familiar  to  me  and  to  my  aid,  the  blest  infusions 
that  dwell  in  vegetables,  in  metals,  stones ;  and  can  speak  of  the 
disturbances  that  nature  works,  and  of  her  cures.  Make  fire  within : 
fetch  hither  all  the  boxes  in  my  closet.  Death  may  usurp  on  nature 
many  hours,  and  yet  the  fire  of  life  kindle  again  the  over-pressed 
spirits.  I  heard  of  an  Egyptian  that  had  nine  hours  lain  dead,  who 
was  by  good  appliance  recovered." 

How  like  the  boastful  lies  of  this  class — the  mountebanks  of  this 
day !  And  the  benighted  public  swallow  the  stories  as  gospel  truths. 
Verily  humanity  is  composed  of  the  selfsame  ingredients  among  all 
people  and  in  all  ages. 

The  recent  law  passed  by  the  legislature  of  Missouri  and  other 
states,  lodging  in  the  hands  of  Boards  of  Health  the  power  to  grant 
this  class  of  men  exclusive  privileges,  in  the  practice  of  their  nefa- 
rious traffic — traflEic  in  human  life — is  a  shame  to  the  age,  and  is  the 
extreme  realization  of  the  idea  called  the  Black  Arts  in  Medicine. 
One  Hundred  Dollars  to  the  ' '  State  Board ' '  and  any  man  may  have 
issued  to  him  a  certificate  authorizing  him  to  practice  medicine  in  the 
great  and  enlightened  States  of  Missouri,  Illinois,  West  Virginia,  and 
some  others  perhaps ;  and  the  would-be  reformers  in  the  profession — 
those  who  are  loud  mouthed  and  boisterous  in  their  clamor  for  a 
"higher  standard  of  medical  education,"  are  the  willing  agents  of 
these  mountebanks  in  endangering  the  lives  of  helpless  and  unsus- 
pecting women  and  children.  The  people  should  see  to  it  that  such 
laws  are  removed  from  the  statute  books  of  the  state.  This  recent 
medical  legislation  in  the  various  states  is  in  the  interest  of  designing 
cliques,  and  the  hands  of  those  with  whom  the  power  for  the  execution 
of  the  laws  has  been  placed  have  never  been  raised  a  single  time 
against  quackery, — but,  on  the  contrary,  have  smote  none  but  legiti- 
mate practitioners. 

[^  The  licence  law  mentioned  above  is,  to  the  practice  of  medicine, 
what  the  ' '  high  licence  law  "  is  to  the  dram  shops — places  a  mo- 


CHIRURGERT. 


211 


nopoly  of  the  itinerant  medicine  business  in  the  hands  of  him  who 
has  money,  but  summarily  stops  the  "  wheels  of  progress"  of  the 
impecunious  and  less  fortunate  quack.     I  am  not  aware  of  any  case 


"  I  have  my  licence  from  the  State  Board  of  Health,  and  here  is  your  medicine." 

yet  where  any  one  has  taken  out  the  hundred  dollar  licence,  but  if 
any  do  not  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to  revel  in  the  bene- 
fits of  a  rich  monopoly,  it  is  certainly  no  fault  of  the  law. 


CHAPTER  IX 


MISCELLANEOUS . 


A  vile  caricature — The  Huncliback — Now  is  the  winter  of  my  discontent — 
Listening  to  the  whispers  of  Vanity — 111  be  at  charge  for  a  looking-glass — 
Troublous  dreams — Sleep  that  knits  up  the  raveled  sleeve — Our  life  is  two- 
old — Sleep  hath  its  own  world — From  Byron  — Neuralgia — No  guaranty  of 
truth — Kiot — Position  in  sea-sickness  —  Old  quarantine  regulations  —  The 
plague — From  the  cradle  to  the  grave — Characteristics  of  senility — Take  a 
man  of  honor,  Kate — He  brings  his  physic  after  his  patient's  death — An  awk- 
ward predicament— Tests  for  death— Life  a  failure — Ay!  but  to  die?  Grim 
Death ! 

Under  the  above  title  will  be  included  various  subjects  which 
could  not  be  well  arranged  under  a  different  heading,  and  which  did 
not  embrace  material  sufficient  in  volume  to  entitle  it  to  a  place  in 
the  work  as  a  whole  chapter.  The  principal  subjects  noticed  here 
will  be  Cyphosis  (hunchback),  Sleep,  Senility,  Necrology,  etc.,  to- 
gether with  other  minor  matters  of  little  importance,  with  which  the 
volume  will  close. 

In  commenting  upon  the  physical  deformities  of  Richard  the 
Third  in  a  preceding  chapter,  it  was  mentioned  that  a  quotation  at 
more  length  depicting  also  his  mental  and  moral  traits  in  connection 
with  other  physical  defects  (those  not  mentioned  there),  might  be 
found  in  the  present  place.  This  work,  claiming  to  be  an  embodi- 
ment of  Shakespeare's  medical  knowledge,  would,  it  is  thought,  be 
incomplete  without  his  complete  description  of  that  hideous  carica- 
ture of  humanity;  and,  although  it  may  seem  that  a  large  portion  of 
the  matter  is  irrelevant  to  actual  medicine,  yet  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  comprehend  the  medical  point  found  in  it  unless  we  take  them  in 
their  full  connection. 

Richard  the  Third,  King  of  England,  occupied  the  throne  from 
1  183  to  1485,  and  the  foul  crimes  enacted  during  his  brief  lease 

212 


>nSCELLANEOUS.  213 

of  authority  made  his  history  a  blot  upon  the  human  character. 
He  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth  Fields,  where  his  army  of 
twelve  thousand  men  was  completely  defeated  by  one  of  half  the 
number  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Richmond,  who  then 
became  King  Henry  the  Seventh. 

Nowhere  in  Shakespeare's  whole  productions  is  his  power  of  delin- 
eating human  character  more  manifest  than  in  his  pen-picture  of  this 
individual ;  it  is  perfect,  both  as  to  his  physical,  moral,  and  mental  de- 
velopments. The  description  shows  Richard  to  have  been  a  fit  repre- 
sentative of  his  class,  both  as  to  physical  and  mental  characteristics  ; 
it  being  a  noticeable  fact  that  in  their  mental  organization  they  (hunch- 
backs) almost  invariably  possess  a  piquancy  and  subtility  unequaled 
by  most  persons  of  a  better  physique,  and  whilst  their  mental  traits 
do  not  give  them  just  claims  to  profundity,  yet  they  are  commonly 
shrewd  in  the  management  of  the  business  affairs  of  life,  and  their 
witticisms  are  often  hurled  with  blighting  effect  at  any  they  may  not 
chance  to  like  ;  and  their  moral  distortions  are  commonly  of  so  pro- 
nounced a  type  as  to  have  originated  among  the  Germans  an  old 
adage,  that  "  he  upon  whom  God  has  set  a  mark,  watch  him,  for  he 
has  surely  come  to  bite  the  world." 

Richard  thus  descants  upon  his  own  deformity:  "  Love  forswore 
me  in  my  mother's  womb  ;  and,  for  I  should  not  deal  in  her  soft  laws, 
she  did  corrupt  frail  nature  with  some  bribe  to  shrink  my  arm  up 
like  a  withered  shrub ;  to  make  an  envious  mountain  on  my  back, 
where  sits  deformity  to  mock  my  body ;  to  shape  my  legs  of  an  un- 
equal size ;  to  disproportion  me  in  every  part,  like  to  a  chaos,  or  an 
unlick'd  bear-whelp,  that  carried  no  impressions  like  the  dam." 
Then  after  he  had  murdered  the  king,  Henry  the  Sixth,  with  his 
own  hand,  on  his  blooody  march  to  power,  he  thus  cogitates:  "  Now 
is  the  winter  of  my  discontent  made  glorious  summer  by  the  sun  of 
York ;  and  all  the  clouds  that  lowered  upon  our  house,  in  the  deep 
bosom  of  the  ocean  buried.  Now  are  our  brows  bound  with  victo- 
rious wreathes  ;  our  bruised  arms  hung  up  for  monuments  ;  our  stern 
alarums  chang'd  to  merry  meeting,  our  dreadful  marches  to  delight- 
ful measures.  Grim  visaged  war  hath  smoothed  his  wrinkl'd  front; 
and  now,  instead  of  mounting  barbed  steeds,  to  fright  the  souls  of 
fearful  adversaries,  he  capers  nimbly,  in  a  lady's  chamber,  to  the 
lascivious  pleasing  of  a  lute.  But  I  that  am  not  shaped  for  sportive 
tricks,  nor  made  to  court  an  amorous  looking-glass ;  I,  that  am 
rudely  stamp' d,  and  want  love's  majesty,  to  strut  before  a   wanton 


214  SHAKESPEARE    AS   A    PHYSICIAN. 

ambling  nymph ;  I,  that  am  curtail' d  of  these  fair  proportions, 
cheated  of  features  by  dissembling  nature,  deformed,  unfinish'd, 
sent  before  my  time  into  this  breathing  world,  scarce  half  made  up, 
and  that  so  lamely  and  unfashionable,  that  dogs  do  bark  at  me  as  I 
halt  by  them  ;  why  I,  in  this  weak,  piping  time  of  peace,  have  no 
delight  to  pass  away  the  time  unless  to  see  my  shadow  in  the  sun, 
and  descant  on  mine  own  deformity ;  since  heaven  hath  shaped  my 
body,  so  let  hell  make  crook'd  my  mind  to  answer  it ;  and  therefore, 
since  I  cannot  prove  a  lover  to  entertain  these  fair  well  spoken  days, 
I  am  determined  to  prove  a  villain,  and  hate  the  idle  pleasures  of 
these  days." 

Notwithstanding  these  vows,  the  foul  toad  found  a  time  when  he 
could  listen  to  the  whisperings  of  vanity  and  be  influenced  thereby ; 
he  even  got  so  that  he  thought  well  of  his  own  good  looks ;  hear  him 
after  he  had  been  paying  court  to  Annie,  the  widow  of  the  murdered 
Edward : 

"  And  will  she  yet  abase  her  eyes  on  me  that  cropp'd  the  golden 
prime  of  this  sweet  prince,  and  made  her  widow  to  a  wof ul  bed? 
On  me  that  halt  and  am  misshapen  thus  ?  My  dukedom  to  a  beggar- 
ly dinner,  I  do  mistake  my  person  all  this  while  ;  upon  my  life  she 
finds,  although  I  cannot,  myself  to  be  a  marvelous  proper  man,  I'll 
be  at  charge  for  a  looking-glass,  and  entertain  a  score  or  more  of 
tailors,  to  study  fashions  to  adorn  my  body ;  since  I  am  crept  into 
favor  with  myself,  I  will  maintain  it  with  some  little  cost." 

The  most  complete  bibliography  of  malformations  resulting  from 
incomplete  (intra  uterine)  development  of  parts  does  not  claim  that 
the  foetal  extremities — the  arm  or  leg — are  abridged  in  development. 
They  may  fail  of  development  utterly  and  the  child  be  born  either 
armless  or  legless,  but  not  with  an  arm  "  shrank  up  like  a  withered 
shrub,"  nor  "  legs  of  an  unequal  size,"  as  was  the  case  with  Rich- 
ard, according  to  his  own  account.  Constrictions,  as  of  the  looping 
around  an  extremity  by  the  umbilical  cord,  migJithsiye  retarded  their 
growth,  but  the  fault  is  placed  to  the  credit,  seemingly,  of  the  same 
agencies  which  placed  the  "  envious  mountain  on  his  back."  The 
action  of  a  constricting  funis  could  not  be  properly  accused  of  this. 
As  was  shown  in  a  former  chapter,  when  speaking  of  teratologic  con- 
dition of  the  foetus,  that  the  departures  from  the  normal  almost  al- 
ways consist  of  lack  of  development  and  not  in  an  excess  of  develop- 
ment; hence  the  conclusion  may  be  fairly  entertained  that  the  moun- 
tain which  sat  mockingly  upon  the  back  of  Richard^was  not  of   intra 


IVnSCELLANEOUS.  215 

uterine  growth,  but  perhaps  occurred  during  his  early  childhood. 
He  also  testifies  to  the  fact  that  he  was  lame,  as  the  dogs  barked  at 
him  as  he  "  halted  "  by.  This  was  much  more  likely  to  have  been 
of  post  natal  origin  than  to  have  been  part  of  a  congenital  deformity. 
It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  the  lower  extremities  become  of  unequal 
length  in  spinal  affections  which  occur  subsequent  to  birth,  as  in 
rickets  for  example. 

Growths  of  such  a  character  as  the  one  situated  upon  his  back  if 
of  intra  uterine  origin  are  known  usually  to  consist  of  an  extra  foetus 
more  or  less  perfect,  constituting  a  tumor  covered  by  integument. 
It  is  not  impossible  but  that  the  tumor  we  write  of  was  of  this  na- 
ture, though  his  mother,  not  being  free  from  a  suspicion  of  some 
constitutional  sexual  vice,  would  be  less  likely  to  make  an  effort  in 
the  way  of  over-production  than  she  would  to  transmit  a  constitu- 
tional taint  which  should  in  childhood  manifest  itself  in  curvature  of 
the  spine.  This  latter  seems  to  have  been  the  real  deformity  in  the 
case  under  consideration,  although  Shakespeare  puts  forward  the  tes- 
timony of  more  than  one  witness  to  the  fact  that  it  was  congenital. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  he  had  murdered  the  husband  of  Annie 
with  his  own  hand  at  Tewkesbury,  and  he  meets  her  on  the  way  to 
the  grave  with  her  husband's  body  and  proposes  marriage  to  her, 
which  she,  to  his  utter  amazement,  accepts.  Queen  Margaret  thus 
gives  us  his  portrait:  "  Thou  elvish  marked,  abortive  rooting  hog! 
thou  that  was  sealed  in  thy  nativity  the  strain  of  nature  and  the  scorn 
of  hell!  Thou  slander  of  thy  mother's  womb!  thou  loathed  issue  of 
thy  father's  loins!" 

Constance  speaks  thus  of  one  she  could  not  love.  kShe  was  speak- 
ing to  her  fair  boy,  Arthur : 

"  If  thou,  that  bidd'st  me  be  content,  wert  grim,  ugly,  and  slander- 
ous to  thy  mother's  womb, — full  of  unpleasing  blots,  unsightly  stains, 
lame,  foolish,  crooked,  swart,  prodigious,  patch' d  with  foul  moles, 
and  eye-offending  marks,  I  would  not  care,  I  then  would  be  content; 
for  then  I  should  not  love  thee ;  but  thou  art  fair,  and  at  thy  birth, 
dear  boy,  nature  and  fortune  joined  to  make  thee  great." 

The  physiological  process  called  sleep  is  spoken  of  in  "Macbeth," 
"Julius  Caesar,"  and  "Henry  the  Sixth."  In  the  latter  the 
"  troublous  dreams  this  night  doth  make  me  sad  "  says  the  "  hunch- 
back," on  one  occasion  during  the  time  he  was  scheming  for  the 
crown;  whilst  the  first  (Macbeth)  says  "the  innocent  sleep; — sleep. 


216  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   PHYSICIAN. 

that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleave  of  care,  the  death  of  each  day's  Ufa, 
sore  labour's  bath,  balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  nature's  second  course, 
chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast."  The  innocent  sleep  thinks  Caesar 
when  he  says :  "let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ;  sleek- 
headed  men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights  ;  yond'  Cassius  hath  a  lean 
and  hungry  look; — he  thinks  too  much." 

"Our  life  is  two-fold:  sleep  hath  its  own  world,  a  boundary  be- 
tween the  things  misnam'd  death  and  existence ;  sleep  hath  its  own 
world,  and  a  wide  realm  of  wild  reality.  And  dreams  in  their  de- 
velopment have  breath  and  tears  and  tortures,  and  the  touch  of  joy  ; 
they  leave  a  weight  upon  our  waking  thoughts,  they  take  weight  from 
off  our  waking  toils,  they  do  divide  our  being ;  they  become  a  portion 
of  ourselves  as  of  our  time,  and  look  like  heralds  of  eternity  ;  they  pass 
like  spirits  of  the  past, — they  speak  like  sybils  of  the  future ;  they 
have  power, — the  tyranny  of  pleasure  and  of  pain;  they  make  us 
what  we  were  not — what  they  will,  and  shake  us  with  the  vision  that's 
gone  by,  the  dread  of  vanish' d  shadows — Are  they  so?  Is  not  the 
past  all  shadow?  What  are  they?  Creations  of  the  mind?  —  The 
mind  can  make  substance,  and  people  planets  of  its  own  with  beings 
brighter  than  have  been,  and  give  a  breath  to  forms  which  can  out- 
live all  flesh." 

I  introduce  the  above  quotation  from  Byron,  that  readers  may  find 
diversity  of  sentiment,  and  in  this  instance  have  the  chance  to  see 
side  by  side  the  ideas  of  two  of  the  most  profound  minds  that  ever 
looked  into  the  human  heart. 

"Before  the  curing  of  a  strong  disease,  even  in  the  instant  of 
repair  and  health,  the  fit  is  strongest." — King  John. 

"The  same  diseases  heal  by  the  same  means." — The  Merchant  of 
Venice. 

The  first  of  these  assertions  is  certainly  correct,  as  the  disease 
must  reach  its  acme  before  the  decline  commences ;  in  that  instant 
repair  must  gain  the  ascendancy  over  waste,  though  the  instant  of 
absolute  health  is  not  yet  reached  the  moment  repair  is  begun.  There 
is  neither  anything  shrewd  nor  illogical  in  the  second  assertion. 

"  Indeed,  we  feared  his  sickness  was  past  cure,"  in  "King  John,  " 
had  reference  not  to  physical  infirmity,  but  to  the  political  danger  of 
Prince  Arthur.  "John"  also  contains  the  proposition  to  "  heal  the 
inveterate  canker  of  one  wound,  by  making  many" — an  idea  only 


MISCELLANEOUS.  217 

used  illustratively,  but  one  which  finds  application  very  often  in  prac- 
tical medicine  and  surgery.  A  quotation  from  "  Richard  the  Second" 
to  the  effect  that  "they  breathe  truth  that  breathe  their  words  in 
pain  "  is  recognized  as  a  basis  of  action  in  admitting  certain  testimony 
in  our  courts  of  justice.  If  a  person  make  a  statement  whilst  under 
the  impression  that  he  cannot  long  survive,  we,  as  a  rule,  give  great 
regard  to  its  probable  truthfulness  ;  but  whether  such  credence  could 
be  placed  in  the  veracity  of  one  who  was  simply  laboring  under  an 
attack  of  neuralgia  without  any  apprehension  of  danger  to  life,  we 
are  not  so  well  satisfied.  Under  these  considerations  of  the  fact  a 
party  would  have  to  be  laboring  under  pain,  to  his  or  her  mind 
evidently  speedily  mortal,  before  much  special  significance  could  be 
given  to  their  utterances. 

In  "  Henry  the  Fourth  "  there  is  a  laughable  incident  where  Fal- 
staff  takes  up  the  quarrel  of  Mrs.  Tearsheet,  and  thereby  precipi- 
tated a  riot  with  Pistol,  who,  with  his  sword,  made  thrusts  at  Fal- 
staff's  belly  and  stabbed  him  in  the  groin,  Sir  John  at  the  same 
time  hurting  Pistol  in  the  shoulder ;  the  reader  must  turn  to  the 
original,  and  get  the  matter  in  its  full  connection,  to  enjoy  a  good 
laugh. 

A  very  early,  and  also  a  very  tardy  case  of  dentition  is  noticed  in 
"Richard  the  Third,"  and  "it  is  time  to  give  them  physic,  their 
diseases  are  grown  so  catching "  is  seen  in  "Henry  the  Eighth." 
"  Then  recovered  him  again  with  aqua  vitae,  or  some  other  hot  infu- 
sion "  is  found  in  the  "  Winter's  Tale  ;  "  the  term  "  aqua  vitse"  be- 
ing used  in  one  other  place  in  Shakespeare,  also.  "  Hot  infusions" 
are  the  popular  domestic  resort  even  to  this  hour,  and  when  after 
scalding,  steaming  and  roasting  a  patient  his  friends  or  parents  can- 
not "  recover  "  him,  the  physician  perhaps  is  invited  to  undertake 
the  then  no  easy  task. 

"  Sea-sick  "  is  also  noticed  in  the  "  Winter's  Tale,"  but  no  ideas  as 
to  its  true  pathology  or  best  treatment  are  advanced.  Observations 
as  to  position  being  the  cause,  and  the  change  of  that  position  into  a 
(philosophically)  more  proper  one  as  a  prophylactic,  and  also  a 
curative  measure,  appear  to  be  the  most  logical  ideas  ever  enter- 
tained and  promulgated  upon  this  distressing  condition,  Dr.  Beard 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  experience 
may  prove  the  value  of  the  suggestions.  The  phrase  "with  a  mind 
that  doth  renew  swifter  than  blood  decays"  is  found  in  "  Troilus 
and  Cressida,"  and  probably  has  reference  to  the  mere  coagulation 


218  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

of  the  blood ;  as  blood  does  not  really  undergo  the  change  of  putre- 
faction sooner  than  many  other  organic  compounds. 

Upon  the  subject  of  sanitary  science,  we  find  the  following  in 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet "  in  regard  to  quarantine : 

"  Going  to  find  a  bare-foot  brother  out,  one  of  our  order,  to  asso- 
ciate me,  here  in  this  city  visiting  the  sick,  and  finding  him,  the 
searchers  of  the  tower,  suspecting  that  we  both  were  in  a  house 
where  the  infectious  pestilence  did  reign,  seal'd  up  the  doors,  and 
would  not  let  us  forth."  This  was  the  story  of  Friar  John  after  his 
return  from  Mantua,  whither  he  had  been  on  the  mission  to  Romeo  to 
acquaint  him  with  the  condition  of  Juliet  as  she  lay  bound  by  the 
Friar  Lawrence's  "  sleeping  potion  "  in  the  "  tomb  of  the  Capulets." 

It  seems  that  quarantine  regulations  were  more  rigidly  enforced  at 
that  early  day  than  at  present;  and  it  is  likely  that  the  "  infectious 
pestilence"  referred  to  was  either  small-pox  or  plague,  as  barring 
doors  would  have  little  effect  in  warding  off  the  subtle  germs  that 
propagate  cholera.  The  "  plague  "  is  named  by  "  Timon ; "  though 
it  is  probable  that  this  scourge  had  not  lately  visited  the  British 
islands,  as  this  is  the  only  instance  in  which  Shakespeare  speaks  of 
it  in  his  entire  writings  ;  had  he,  however,  lived  half  a  century  later, 
at  the  time  when  London  was  almost  depopulated  from  this  dreadful 
malady,  he  would  doubtless  have  given  the  world  a  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  its  horrors  ;  it  was  his  strong  point  to  seize  upon  every  salient 
feature  of  an  age,  and  present  it  in  a  light,  and  with  a  force  of 
thought,  never  attained  by  any  other  individual.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  the  plague  visited  London  in  1665,  and  the  great  fire  in 
1666,  just  fifty  years  after  the  death  of  Shakespeare. 

The  oft-quoted  "  all  the  world's  a  stage  "  is  a  truism  ;  "they  have 
their  exits  and  their  entrances,  and  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many 
parts, — his  acts  being  seven  ages.  At  first  the  infant,  mewling  and 
puking  in  his  mother's  arms ;  then,  the  whining  school-boy,  with  his 
satchel,  and  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail  unwillingly  to 
school.  And  then  the  lover,  sighing  like  furnace,  with  woful  ballad 
made  to  his  mistress'  eye-brows.  Then  a  soldier,  full  of  strange 
oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard,  jealous  in  honor,  sudden  and  quick 
in  quarrel,  seeking  the  bubble  reputation  even  in  the  cannon's  mouth. 
And  then  the  justice  in  fair  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lin'd,  with 
eye  severe  and  beard  of  formal  cut,  full  of  wise  saws  and  modern 
instances ;  and  so  he  plays  his  part. 

The  sixth  age  shifts  into  the  lean  and   slipper' d  pantaloon,  with 


MISCELLANEOUS.  219 

spectacles  on  nose  and  pouch  at  side  ;  his  youthful  hose,  well  sav'd, 
a  world  too  wide  for  his  shrunken  shanks,  and  his  big  manly  voice, 
turning  again  towards  the  childish  treble,  pipes  and  whistles  in  his 
sound. 

Last  scene  of  all,  that  ends  this  strange  eventful  history,  is  second 
childishness,  and  mere  oblivion ;  sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste, 
sans  everything  " — the  listless  old  man  sits  in  his  quiet  corner,  his 
hands  resting  on  the  top  of  his  cane,  waiting  patiently  for  the  final 
summons. 

The  Chief  Justice  and  Falstaff  get  the  matter  in  this  shape : 

Falstaff.  "You  that  are  old,  consider  not  the  capacities  of  us 
that  are  young. 

Chief  Justice.  Do  you  set  down  your  name  in  the  scroll  of  youth, 
that  are  written  down  old  with  all  the  characters  of  age?  Have  you 
not  a  moist  eye,  a  dry  hand,  a  yellow  cheek,  a  white  beard,  a  de- 
Qreasing  leg,  and  increasing  belly?  Is  not  your  voice  broken,  your 
wind  short,  your  chin  double,  your  wit  single,  and  every  part  about 
you  blasted  with  antiquity,  and  will  you  yet  call  yourself  young? 
Fie,  fie,  fie,  Sir  John. 

Falstaff.  My  lord,  I  was  born  about  three  of  the  clock  in  the 
afternoon,  with  a  white  head,  and  something  of  a  round  belly  ;  for 
my  voice — I  have  lost  it  with  hollaing  and  singing  of  anthems.  To 
ajjprove  my  youth  farther,  I  will  not :  the  truth  is,  I  am  only  old  in 
judgment  and  understanding ;  and  he  that  will  caper  with  me  for  a 
thousand  marks,  let  him  lend  me  the  money  and  have  at  him." 

"  Hal  "  gets  off  a  pretty  good  thing  in  the  same  direction  during 
his  courtship  with  his  Kate:  "While  thou  livest,  dear  Kate,  take  a 
fellow  of  plain  and  uncoin'd  constancy,  for  he  perforce  must  do  thee 
right,  because  he  hath  not  the  gift  to  woo  in  other  places  ;  for  these 
fellows  of  infinite  tongue  that  can  rhyme  themselves  into  ladies' 
favors,  they  do  always  reason  themselves  out  again.  A  good  leg 
will  fail,  a  straight  back  will  stoop,  a  black  beard  will  turn  white,  a 
curled  pate  will  grow  bald,  a  fine  face  will  wither,  a  full  ej^e  will 
wax  hollow — but  a  good  heart,  Kate — "  while  Hamlet  finishes  it  in 
this  wise :  "  This  satirical  rogue  here,  says  that  old  men  have  grey 
beards ;  that  their  faces  are  wrinkled  ;  their  eyes  purging  thick  am- 
ber and  plum-tree  gum  ;  and  that  they  have  a  plentiful  lack  of  wit, 
together  with  most  weak  hams."  Though  after  all  these  pictures 
of  decay,  it  is  claimed  by  the  cynical  philosophy  of  the  blind   Glos- 


220  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHTSICIAN. 

ter,  in  "  King  Lear,"  that  but  for  the  hatred  we  have  for  the  world 
— engendered  by  its  strange  mutations,  life  would  never  yield  to  the 
inroads  of  time,  and  our  existence  on  earth  would  become  perpet- 
ual. It  no  doubt  occurs  to  every  one  who  has  had  experience  in  the 
vicissitudes  of  earthly  existence,  at  some  time  in  their  career,  to  ask 
themselves  the  question — "  To  be  or  not  to  be?  or  whether  'tis  nobler 
in  the  mind,  to  suffer  the  stings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  ; 
or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles,  and  by  opposing  end 
them?"  Or,  like  Constance,  in  "King  John,"  who  in  the  "  extremity 
of  her  griefs  "  says  of  the  "  grim  monster  " — "No,  I  defy  all  coun. 
sel,  all  redress,  but  that  which  ends  all  counsel,  true  redress,  death, 
death,  O,  amiable,  lovely  death!  thou  odoriferous  stench!  sound 
rottenness  !  arise  from  forth  the  couch  of  lasting  night,  thou  hate  and 
terror  to  prosperity,  and  I  will  kiss  thy  detestable  bones." 

In  "  Henry  the  Eighth  "  we  find  a  simile  in  regard  to  his  marriage, 
in  these  words:  "  He  brings  his  physic  after  his  patient's  death  " — 
an  occurrence  by  the  way  not  unfrequent  in  the  career  of  many  doc- 
tors of  medicine. 

Experience  teaches  us  that  this  fact  is  often  more  embarrassing 
than  the  matter  would  seem  to  warrant ;  but  really,  one  who  has 
practiced  medicine  in  the  rural  districts  and  has  many  times  called 
to  see  his  patient  and  finds  him  twenty-four  hours  dead,  can  fully  ap- 
preciate my  meaning.  The  writer  of  these  lines  not  long  in  the  past 
practiced  in  the  country,  and  when  approaching  the  house  of  a  pa- 
tient whom  he  had  left  in  a  critical  condition  at  the  last  visit,  it  was 
customary  to  scan  closely  the  premises,  and  if  he  found  a  number  of 
horses  tied  along  the  fence — many  of  them  with  side  saddles  on,  he 
at  once  felt  crestfallen,  and  without  further  information  concluded 
that  "he  brings  his  physic  after  the  patient's  death.  "_2J..^  "<' 

The  language  of  Capulet,  once  before  noted  in  these  pages — "Out, 
alas!  she's  cold!  her  blood  is  settled  and  her  joints  are  stiff;  life 
and  these  lips  have  long  been  separated  ;  death  lies  on  her  like  an 
untimely  frost,"  is  a  fair  picture  of  the  ending  of  mortality;  though 
if  one  swallowed  all  the  ideas  and  speculations  he  reads  of,  he  might 
reach  the  conclusion  that  after  all,  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  say  posi- 
tively when  a  person  is  dead.  For  the  more  satisfactory  demonstra- 
tion of  its  certainty,  numerous  tests  are  given,  one  of  the  most  re- 
cent being  to  ligate  the  finger  of  the  party  suspected,  and  if  it  swells 
beyond  or  on  the  distal  side  of  the  constriction,  then  the  circulation 
goes  on  and  of  course  the  person  lives.      Another  is  to  apply  the 


MISCELLANEOUS.  221 

flame  of  a  candle  to  the  point  of  the  finger,  and  if  the  burn  is  fol- 
lowed by  vesication  the  person  lives, — if  it  remain  parched  and  brown 
then  he  is  dead  ;  whilst  again  if  the  fingers  of  the  suspected  party 
be  held  between  the  eye  of  the  observer  and  a  strong  light,  as  the 
sun  at  noonday,  if  they  are  transparent  then  life  remains,  if  opaque 
or  dark,  then  death  has  done  his  work  ;  whilst  yet  another  test  is  to 
drop  a  solution  of  atropine  in  the  eye,  and  if  it  dilates,  all  right, — if 
not,  then  we  may  begin  to  suspect  something  wrong.  I  suspect 
however  that  the  test  of  old  Lear — that  of  placing  a  looking-glass  be- 
fore the  lips  of  the  party  suspected,  and  if  the  "  shine  is  moistened" 
by  the  condensed  expired  vapors,  then  he  lives — otherwise  he  is 
caput  mortuum.  The  wafting  of  a  feather  by  the  breath  is  also  sug- 
gested as  a  test  in  "King  Lear." 

Of  easy  ways  to  die  I  know  of  no  one  who  has  given  the  subject 
more  special  attention  than  the  voluptuous  Cleopatra,  who  studied 
the  matter  well  with  a  view  to  its  practical  application  in  her  own 
person.  The  assertion  that  one  recovered  after  having  nine  hours 
lain  dead,  is  only  a  marvelous  story  from  the  lips  of  a  quack — 
the  analogue  of  cases  with  which  we  meet  every  day. 

Apropos  of  the  dying  and  the  dead,  we  find  a  case  in  medical  ju- 
risprudence in  "  Henry  the  Sixth  " — a  case  which  if  "  not  positively 
proven"  is  very  well  argued  upon  a  basis  of  hypothecation.  The 
case  referred  to  is  the  death  of  the  duke  of  Gloster,  who  it  was 
claimed  had  been  murdered  at  the  instance  of  the  queen  and  her 
paramour,  the  earl  of  Suffolk. 

Warwick.  "I  do  believe  violent  hands  were  laid  upon  the  life  of 
this  thrice-famed  duke. 

Suffolk.  A  dreadful  oath,  sworn  with  a  solemn  tongue!  What  in- 
stance gives  Lord  Warwick  for  his  view  ? 

Warwick.  See  how  the  blood  has  settled  in  his  face.  Oft  have  I 
seen  a  timely  parted  ghost,  of  ashy  semblance,  meagre,  pale,  and 
bloodless,  being  all  descended  to  the  laboring  heart ;  who  in  the  con- 
flict that  it  holds  with  death  attracts  the  same  for  aidance  'gainst  the 
enemy;  which  with  the  heart  there  cools,  and  ne'er  returneth  to  blush 
and  beautify  the  cheek  again.  But  see,  his  face  is  black,  and  full  of 
blood;  his  eye-balls  farther  out  than  when  he  liv'd,  staring  full 
ghastly  like  a  strangled  man:  his  hair  upraised,  his  nostrils  stretch'd 
with  straining.  His  hands  abroad  display' d  like  one  that  grasp 'd 
and  tugg'd  for  life,   and  was  by  strength  subdued.     Look,  on  the 


222  SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 

sheets,  his  hair  you  see,  is  sticking ;  his  well  proportioned  beard 
made  rough,  rugged,  like  to  the  summer's  corn  by  tempest  lodged. 
It  cannot  be  but  he  was  murdered  here ;  the  least  of  all  these  signs 
were  probable." 

The  annals  of  forensic  medicine  do  not  furnish  a  more  consistent 
and  graphic  picture  of  death  by  hanging  or  by  strangulation  than  is 
here  presented.  The  endeavor,  however,  to  point  out  negative  signs 
as  evidence  of  the  duke's  murder  is  rather  lame  and  inconclusive. 
Shakespeare  falls  into  such  an  error  but  seldom  indeed. 

It  was  said  a  few  paragraphs  back,  that  no  doubt  was  entertained, 
that  most  persons  who  had  encountered  for  a  time  the  vicissitudes  of 
life,  had  often  concluded  that  after  all,  life  is  an  unsatisfactory  state 
of  existence,  that  life  is  a  failure,  and  that  there  are  few  things  here 
below  worth  living  for;  but  then  "to  die,  and  go  we  know  not 
where  ;  to  lie  in  cold  obstruction  and  to  rot ;  this  sensible  warm  mo- 
tion to  become  a  kneaded  clod ;  and  the  delighted  spirit  to  bathe  in 
fiery  floods,  or  to  reside  in  thrilling  regions  of  thick-ribbed  ice:  to 
be  imprison' d  in  the  viewless  winds,  and  blown  with  restless  violence 
round  about  the  pendent  world ;  or  to  be  worse  than  worst  of  these — 
'tis  too  horrible!  The  weariest  loathed  worldly  life,  that  age,  ache, 
penury  and  imprisonment  can  lay  on  nature,  is  a  paradise  to  what 
we  fear  of  death." 

In  regard  to  the  terror  manifested  by  Shakespeare  at  the  bare  idea 
of  the  uncertainties  of  a  future  existence,  it  appears  a  little  puerile 
to  myself.  To  the  philosophic  mind  the  thought  of  a  future  oblivion 
in  which  we  maybe  should  possess  no  more  of  dread  than  the  oblivion 
in  which  we  were.  Indeed,  as  I  was  one  hundred  years  ago  is,  to 
my  mind,  the  condition  in  which  I  loill  he  one  hundred  years  hence. 
To  my  thinking  the  analogue  is  complete.  If  I  am  hereafter  im- 
prisoned in  the  viewless  winds  or  lie  in  cold  obstruction,  what  is  it 
more  than  I  have  been?  We  have  this  life  certainly  which  we  may 
present  as  an  analogical  conclusion  for  another ;  but  on  the  other 
hand  ive  know,  from  observation,  of  two  states  of  non-existence  for 
these  forms  of  ours — the  remove  from  the  beginning,  and  from  the 
ending  of  the  present  one — and  so  "  I  take  my  leave." 

THE    END. 


Ij^DEX. 


PAGE     I 

Abortion... 24,  25,  58,  Ol,  64 

A  boon  to  nineteen 127 

Acumen,  Professional 58 

Age,  Nubile 24 

Alcohol  and  venery 36 

All  the  world's  a  stage 218 

Anaesthesia 154 

Anger 120 

Anorexia 22 

Antidote 84 

Appetite,  Craving 21 

"  Sexual 107 

Arrow-poison 148 

Asperity 35 

Atavism        167 

A  very  old  head „ 130 

Avon,  Bard  of 28 

Balance,  Nutritive 21 

Banquo 80 

Barker,  Dr.,  of  Dumfries  33 

Baths  in  syphilis 171 

Bearing-cloth... 38 

Beau  Nash 89 

Biron  197 

Blasted 219 

Blood,  Smell  of 80 

Blue-eyed  hag 18 

Blumenbach 167 

Boards  of  Health 210 

Bowlsby,  Alice 18 

Brownist 163 

Brown-Sequard  167 

Bryant,  W.  C 96 

Bucknill,  Dr 71,  78,  85,  101 

Bullen,  Anne 47 

Byron,  Lord 216 

223 


PAGE 

CcBsarian  section 64 

Campbell,  Lord 28 

Cataclysm,  Final 95 

Carry  his  water 186 

Cataract 206 

Cave  of  Belarius _ 155 

Cephalalgia 128 

Chastria,  Mrs 120 

Chemistry  of  digestion 175 

Child,  A  thankless 65 

Chlorosis 37 

Chosen,  by  what? 43 

Coma  and  speech 124 

Come  back    48 

Come  on  my  right 185 

Conclusions  ...117 

Consanguinity 27 

Conspiracy 74 

Convulsions,  Puerperal 68 

Cornelia 53 

Country  swain 19 

Cramer,  Jennie 19 

Cramp  in  drowning „ 125 

Cut-throat 46 

C>T)hoses - 44,  212 

Dankish   vaults 74 

Death  of  Falstaff 160 

DeBoismont     82,  87,  91 

Deformities,  Double 45 

Degeneracy,  Mental     55 

Delineation,  Farcical  73 

Dentition,   a  guide 57 

Dialectical  society    36 

Digestion  and  sleep   94 

Diseases  dearer  than  physic.  172 
Disturbances,  Mental 73 


224 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


PAGE 

Down  grade  of  life 35 

Do  you  nothing  hear? 86 

Drama  and  education 42 

Dreams,  alwaj^s  involuntary...  83 

Drinks,   Sleepy 132 

Duhaget,  Dom 82 

Dyspareunia 70,  119 

Early  marriages 54,  55 

Earth  and  its  girdle 23 

Eclampsia  _ 68 

Elimination 22 

Emendator,  Error  of 145 

English  common  law 32 

Envy 120 

Epilepsy 121 

Epistaxis 185 

Etiology 156 

Existence,  A  future 222 

Expert,  Medical 33 

Expression  and  bromides 123 

Facial  perception _ 185 

Fact,  the  only  evidence 33 

Falling  sickness 121,  123 

Families,  Aristocratic 28 

"         Rural 60 

Farmed  out  57 

Female  physicians 198 

Fencing  match 149 

Fever,  Typhoid 22,  92 

Few  can  correct  errors 146 

Fibroids,  Uterine 60 

Fleming,  the  phrenologist 184 

Fools  not  mad  folks 97 

Foscari,  Cell  of 74 

Garrulous  nurse 56,  62 

Garters,  an  evil 162 

Gentleman,   Lusty 32,  33 

Germ-life 47 

Give  her  an  hundred  marks ....  49 

Give  me  some  drink 161 

Gland,  The  mammary 56 

Gout 131 

Green  sickness 37,  62 

Groans,  Night  of 47 

Grocer's  maid 166 

Gynaecology 17 


PAGE 

Halitus,   Pulmonary 102 

Hallucinations 90,  91,  147 

Handkerchief  42 

Hatred,  Immoderate 30 

Harangue 121 

Headache  129,  130 

Head,  Compression  of 128 

Hebenon 165 

He  reads  much 187 

Hernia 113 

He   upon   whom  God  sets  a 

mark 213 

Histo  -  genetic  operations 192 

Hobnail  liver 179 

Hope 41 

Horse,  with  side-saddle 220 

Hospital,    Guy's 37 

How  stand  the  clergy? 204 

Hunchback,  The 42 

Hypnotics  141 

Idea,  A  paramount 100 

Idiosyncrasy  139 

Ignorance  of  the  populace....  196 
Illegitimacy ....      ...31,  32,  34,  55 

Imagination,  Scientific 92 

Immortality 93 

Inanition     57 

Incident,  Ludicrous 39 

Indian,  American 30 

"        doctor  202 

Inebriate  "Homes" 75 

Infanticide 64 

Infantile  vitality 68 

Influences,  Septic   22 

Insane   hospitals 74 

Irritability  of  hunger 177 

Jealousy 101,  103,  104,  105 

Jones,  John,  of  Albany 127 

Jorisenne,  Dr, 40 

Knowledge,  Intuitive 72 

Knowing  him  is  enough 200 

Lactiferous  period 56 

Lady,  English 30 

Language,  Irrelevant 98 


INDEX. 


225 


PAGE 

Lankaster,  Dr lo7 

Lebreicht 140 

Le  Sage 88 

Lex    scripta 29 

Letter,  A  veritable 116 

Licence,  Sexual 107 

Liquidating  a  bill 84 

London,  Tower  of 42 

Love  powders 115 

"       marks 109 

Lugubrious  physiognomy 209 

Lunacy,  courts  of  enquiry....    76 

Lust 112 

Lying-in  chamber 50 

Macbeth,  Lady 79 

Madness  and  emotion 101 

Mad-folk  of  Shakespeare 134 

Maid,   A  fun-loving 77 

Malaria  and  mortality 162 

Male  accoucheurs,  none 54 

Malformations 26 

Malignancy  and  milk 60 

Mammary  glands 56,  58,  61 

Mandragora 135 

Mantua,  Apothecary  of 142 

Man's  procreative  capacity 107 

Marriage  in    1884 182 

"          Early,  and  morals..  55 

Marshall,  Minnie.... 116 

Massachusetts  gen.  hospital ...  207 

Mastication,  Organs  of 58 

Medical  Soc'y.of  St.  Joseph ...  157 

Medicine,  Forensic 29 

Medlicott,  Dr 203 

Menses 28 

Mental  phenomena.  Aberrant.  71 

Metamorphosis _ 21 

Milk  ...30,  56,  57,  60,  62,  63,  82 

Midwives,  Commission  of 39 

Mind,  the  offspring  of  matter  91 

Moliere 78 

Money-bags 31 

Monkey  as  an  expert _    76 

Monogamistic  relations 108 

Montagues,  The 142 

Mormon  society 108 

Morbi  materies 22 


Motion 91,  93 

Murder,  Picture  of 221 

Music  as  a  remedy 133 

Narcotics   132 

Night,  Dismal 42 

Nipple,  The 55,  56,  63 

Non  medical  men 21,  24 

Not  from  Shakespeare 112 

Not  pregnant.  When 40 

Normal  pregnancies.  Ten 59 

Notions,  Antiquated 19 

Nubility  and  fourteen  24 

Nursing,  Attachments  of 63 

"  her  own  child  sacred  58 

Odontalgia 128 

Offspring,  Limitation  of 54 

Olivares,  Duke  of 88 

On  death 222 

Opium 84 

Organology 174 

Orleans,  Maid  of  39 

Ovariotomy,  Normal 24 

Ovulation 60 

Ovid 115 

Pabulum  of  thought 96 

Painting,  Face 196 

Paramour,  A  black 51 

Pen,  The 22 

Pen  of  a  master 50 

Perfumes  of  Arabia 80 

Phonograph 23 

Physiology  of  sleep 215 

Pierre  Chatel 82 

Poisoned  by  a  monk 137 

Pontine    marsh 159 

Prather,Miss  126 

Prayer  vs.   quinine 208 

Pregnancy,  Diagnoses  of 40 

"  Signs  of 40 

Pretty  worm  of  Nilus 150 

Printing  press.  The 23 

Private  retreats 75 

Privilege,  Child-bed 30 

Procreative  life  of  women 59 

Prunes,  Stew'd _ 22 

"          Longing  for 20 


226 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A    PHYSICIAN. 


PAGE 

Psychology 70,  72 

Puck  23 

Pulse  as  a  guide 85 

Pure  air  deleterious 191 

Pythagoras 78 

Quack,    A 67 

Quack,  The  impecunious 221 

Quick  at  second  month 22 

Race,  Yankee 55 

Rape,  but  no  conception 118 

Reade,  Charles 76 

Red-hot  stove,  curative 188 

Reproduction,  when  complete  61 
Resuscitation,  Writer's  mode  69 

"Retreats,"  Private 75 

Revolver,  The  trusty  Ill 

Rosenweig,  Dr.  18 

Royston 146 

Sack 38 

Sagacity  of  Shakespeare 21 

Scheele  146 

Schoeppe,  Dr 203 

Scientific  use  of  the  imagina- 
tion    92 

Sea-sickness,  Position  in.  135,  217 

Section,  Caesarian   64 

Sexual  relations,  Equality  in.  106 

Shaftesbury,  Lord .  107 

Shakespeare,  a  contradiction  31 

Shylock,  the  Jew 194 

Sims,  Dr.  J.  Marion    40 

Singing  man  of  Windsor 176 

Skeleton 90 

Sleeplessness 73 

Sleep,  Physiology  of 93 

Smile,  sir 34,  102 

Snake  bite 152 

Social  science 36 

Solobasta     153 

Somnambulism 81,  82 

Soul,   The  93 

Specifics,  Love  ^ 114 

Spectres,  etc. 87 

Spencer,  Herbert  36 

Squaw,  Labor  of 30 


PAGE 

Sterile    condition 110 

Storm,  Relentless 90 

Study  of  Shakespeare 71 

Suicide,  Fashions  of 136 

Sunrise,  Dr 203 

Surgery    192 

Swinstead   Abbey  138 

Syphilis,  Baths  in 164 

Tanner,  resists  decay 172 

Tanner,  the  faster 175 

Tearsheet,  Mrs.  Doll 38,  130 

Telephone  23 

Temptation,  A  terrible 76 

Teratology  44,  214 

Tewkesbury  and  Gov.  Butler  75 

Then  live,  Macduff 181 

The  public  dipper  170 

The  Wash  and  the  Humber ...  158 

Thorn,  A  jealous 105 

Tissue,  Plastic    44 

Trust  not  the  physician 190 

Truth  and  popular  idea 180 

Tubercular  bacteria 183 

Tubercle  and  syphilis 129 

Twins,  Siamese 45 

Utah  108 

Uterus  a  mobile  organ 27 

Vaccine  disease 166 

Varden,   Dolly 109 

Villain,  what  hast  thou? 52 

Vision,  Obliquity  of  103 

Vivisection 153 

Von  Helmont 115 

Vulgarian  134 

Waggish  old  man   122 

Wedlock   no  evidence 34 

Whistle,  The  seaman's 66 

Wilkes,    Dr 37 

Wine  and  blood 173 

Witticisms    45 

Woman,  a  dish  for  the  gods ...  151 

Woodman,  The  178 

Young  fiirt,  The 110 

Zone,  Epileptic 168 


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